


The Sound of Letting Go

by Velvedere



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alfheim, Alternate Norse Mythology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sea Monsters, Thor Falls With Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was going to do it. Thor knew he was going to do it.</p>
<p>He had seen that look before.</p>
<p>That look echoed across a childhood of stolen nights and broken trespasses. Of dangers fought, revisited, and conquered.</p>
<p>It was the look in Loki’s eyes when he’d made up his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All thanks to D'Aulaire for writing a book of Norse mythology at my reading level.

“Loki, no…”

He was going to do it. Thor knew he was going to do it.

He had seen that look before.

That look echoed across a childhood of stolen nights and broken trespasses. Of dangers fought, revisited, and conquered.

It was the look in Loki’s eyes when he’d made up his mind.

Defiance in spite of heartbreak.

Wind from the torn cosmos whipped around them. It tugged at their cloaks, made Thor have to squint in order to see. Jagged shards of broken bridge cut into his cheek, but he refused to let go of the spear.

It was all that kept his brother from falling.

But then there was that look, and Loki released his end.

“ _No_!”

Thor shouted it over the wind. Shouted it to cover their father’s whisper which he knew – _felt_ – echoed the same.

Loki was falling.

Thor kicked hard. He dug the heel of his boot into Odin’s hand. He knew not what he intended to do, only that Loki was falling, and he _had to save him_.

Odin shouted something. His name. Thor paid it no heed. He felt the wind and the lurch in his stomach as he began to plummet. He felt the heat of the Bifrost’s path where it had torn a hole in space: a cavernous black maw of swirling nebulas ready to swallow them.

He felt the sure, steady weight of Mjolnir in his hand.

He reached for his brother, who bared his teeth and slashed at him with a summoned dagger, as though to continue their fight even as they fell.

Thor grabbed his collar. Loki twisted free.

The portal pulled them in.

Thor latched his arm around Loki’s shoulders, pulling him to his chest. He twisted them through the nothing and swung his arm to gather momentum, lifting Mjolnir to point in the direction of home.

But the portal proved stronger.

A bright light and wave of heat. A burst of energy down his arm.

Loki’s nails like claws in his neck.

It was the last thing Thor felt before all was lost to darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Early in the morning of time there was no sand, no grass, no lapping wave. There were no realms, no sun, no moon, no stars. There was Niflheim, a waste of frozen fog, and Muspelheim, a place of raging—”_

_“You just said there were no realms.”_

_“There weren’t.”_

_“Then how was there Niflheim and Muspelheim?”_

_“They weren’t realms as we know them. They were only vast wastelands.”_

_“Who named them?”_

_“People after the fact.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Do you want me to keep reading?”_

_Thor rolled onto his side, biting a stalk of grass between his teeth._

_“Go on.”_

_Loki nodded, and shifted the heavy book where it rested in his lap._

_“…and Muspelheim, a place of raging flames. In between the fog and fire was a gaping pit called Ginungagap…_ ”

***

Thor didn’t know where they had landed. He knew only two things.

The first, that it was dark.

He landed hard with a growl and a grunt on his shoulder, far from the gentle way he was accustomed to being deposited by the Bifrost. Hard-packed ground and a jutting rock dug into his armor. It spun his senses, and for a moment he could not tell in which direction lay the sky. Where was the ground.

The second was that Loki insisted on continuing their battle.

He came at him with a knife. That cry the sound of anguish and anger tore from his throat, half hoarse already from shouting over the Bifrost to be heard.

Thor caught his arm, his instinct quick to respond even if his wits were not yet about him. He pushed Loki away and gathered his boots beneath him, halting Loki’s wrist before he could draw another weapon.

“Loki! Stop this now!”

Overhead, the Bifrost’s torn pathway closed, like dying flickers of dragonbreath.

In what little light it offered, Thor could see there was no reason in his brother’s eyes. Only seething hatred.

Loki snarled, and planted his heel in Thor’s neck to break away.

Thor choked and coughed, further cries to reach him strangled.

In an instant Loki was everywhere. Before him. Behind him. Knives glinted in what Thor vaguely realized was silver-red moonlight. The blades aimed to stab, citing the weaker points in his armor. Loki would have known them all too well.

Thor threw his cloak around him, and called Mjolnir to his hand.

He felt her reassuring strength and closed his eyes as he swung, braced against the burn of threatening tears. Trusting her to know where to strike.

She connected with a sharp crack.

Thor felt the sickening give of a body.

Loki was thrown back. He landed hard, rolled, and finally sprawled to a stop near the foot of a dark tree.

Quiet settled.

Thor lowered his arm, releasing the breath he had been holding. He rubbed his neck while a fearful worry wrenched his features.

“Loki…”

He had not struck hard. Barely with half his strength. Still he hurried to Loki’s side and knelt, reaching for his shoulder, then his chest.

Loki’s side rose and fell as he breathed. He lived.

Thor sagged into a seat beside him. He let Mjolnir rest on the ground. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, waiting for the quiet to soothe the hot pulse of his blood.

When he lifted his head again, he turned his eyes over their surroundings.

The night lay not as dark as a moment ago. It was indeed night, wherever they were. Three moons illuminated the sky overhead – one large, bloated and pale orange, another distant and red, and one still further, small and violet – with an accompaniment of stars.

Thor recognized none of the constellations.

Three moons? Not Asgard. Nor Earth.

Forest surrounded them, blacker than the deep purple of the sky above. Now that he could spare the attention, Thor could hear crickets, and the distant warble of some nocturnal bird.

He felt Loki once more and – satisfied his breathing was not labored – Thor left him long enough to return to the landing site.

Of the runes scorched into the ground, he recognized none of them. They were jagged and broken, crushed together in mannerisms that made no sense. They could not be read.

Thor lifted his eyes to the sky. He looked beyond the moons to the stars, as though to pick out which among them was the bright spot of home.

“Heimdall?” he murmured.

Only the chirp of crickets answered.

The explosion that sounded the Bifrost’s death still rang in Thor’s ears, echoing a fresh and painful truth.

Even if Heimdall could see them, the Bifrost was not there to bring them home.

He turned his eyes back to Loki.

Loki had not moved.

Another sound tread on the surface of Thor’s memory. It was quiet in comparison, nearly drowned by the lingering wind and the memory of weapons striking in the observatory. It was a painful sound, toned in Loki’s voice.

“ _I’m not your brother. I never was._ ”

Thor’s will alone kept him from going to Loki then, from shaking him awake and demanding an explanation for what he had meant. The words haunted his conscience with dreadful persistence, almost as much as the sober look – not even disdainful, Thor thought – that had been on Loki’s face when he’d said it.

Thor was long accustomed to being outwitted by Loki’s words; for Loki to say things he did not understand. But there had been no vehemence. No impassioned rage in the moment. Only Loki’s firm and confident authority.

Thor would have much preferred Loki to say such a thing in anger, rather than calmly whispered. Then he could believe it to be nothing.

He returned to his brother’s side.

When Loki woke, he would ask him.

Until then, Thor picked him up and slung him over one shoulder.

This, at least, Loki could not protest.

And if his cloak happened to fall over his head and drag the ground as they went, then he would just have to suffer the indignity.

***

Thor found a river and followed it. It would be the best path to lead them to some sort of civilization. Even if they did not happen upon it quickly, at least there would be water.

He walked in the direction of dawn. One hand steadied Loki over his shoulder. Mjolnir hung opposite at his belt.

The forest was beautiful as it came to light. Lush and green, it rivaled even the gardens of Asgard. Brightly-colored birds sang and flitted among the leaves. Along the ground dewy moss hid in the shade. Flowers of kinds Thor couldn’t name grew near fallen logs and clumps of rock.

Their faces seemed to turn and follow Thor as he passed, disturbing them as little as possible.

The peacefulness soothed Thor’s mood, though the quiet allowed too much room to think.

Thor’s face remained grim. Events played themselves over again and again through his thoughts – his banishment to Earth, the Destroyer, returning to Asgard, the fated ride to Jotunheim that had began it all – and Thor strove to trace the common thread that linked them together. What path could he see through Yggdrasil’s convoluted branches that had brought him and his brother to this point. Where did it yet lead?

What had happened to Loki while he’d been exiled to Earth?

The forest’s beauty was the sort to rekindle hope. Thor dared to think this wayward journey as hardly a trial. He would come upon a settlement of some variety soon enough. He would find out in what realm they had landed. Loki would wake and they would return home in time to eat the evening meal.

Once they were home, all would be well. They would speak with their father and mother – whatever Loki’s strange insistence that they were not brothers stemmed from, it would be remedied – and all would be forgiven. Plans would be made to begin repairs on the Bifrost. All would be as it was before.

Doubt discolored even the rosiest of Thor’s hopes. Though what name he could call the shadow that lingered near his heart, he did not know.

He did not truly believe it would be so easy.

Thor walked on through the day, and evening came.

There was no sign of any settlement.

He bedded them down beside an outcropping of rock near the river to serve as a crude shelter. The sky was clear that night. The rocks would serve as something to put his back against while they rested.

Loki still had not awakened.

Thor lay him down on his side. He tore his cloak free and folded it, cradling it under Loki’s head for use as a pillow. He smoothed back Loki’s hair – Loki would have detested the mess it looked – and brought a little water from the river to gently wipe over his face.

A sizeable bruise had formed along the line of his jaw. Thor flinched to see it, even as he reminded himself Mjolnir could have done much worse. It was in her power. And it had been Loki to insist upon the fight.

Still, turning Mjolnir on his brother was something Thor had never imagined he would have reason to do.

He folded his cloak in a similar fashion and stretched out along the ground beside him, looking up to the stars.

The moons emerged. Their light cast the river in colors not unlike that of the Bifrost.

***

The next day passed in much the same manner.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Thor began to think maybe he had struck Loki too hard after all.

No sign of civilization revealed itself. Even when Thor stopped long enough to scale a tree and turn his gaze to the four horizons, no tower or pillar of smoke broke the endless tide of green. A range of mountains lined the distance. The only path to them lay in the one the river carved through the trees.

Thor knew not what to do, except continue.

On the fifth day the sky grew dark with stormclouds.

Thor found a small cave for them to take shelter near the foot of the mountains. It bordered a lake into which the river fed.

He built a fire – rather, used Mjolnir to ignite a pile of dry wood – and caught some fish to roast.

At least the fish of this realm looked, and for the most part: tasted, like fish.

He wiped down Loki’s brow and cheeks again with a damp corner of his cloak. Smoothed his hair. Thor thought perhaps to try and get some water down his throat, then decided against it.

Loki breathed evenly, but would still not open his eyes.

Thor sighed.

“I am sorry, brother,” he murmured. “Whether you would believe me or not.”

He looked to the sky. The energy of thunder yet unleashed in the gathering clouds tugged at his hand. He felt gripped by the urge to lift Mjolnir like a beacon to guide the storm in, to pull and tether it that it may unleash its power so precariously held. Direct it this way or that. Towards the mountains or out over the far reaches of forest.

It would make him feel less useless.

Had Loki been awake, he would know what to do. He would have a plan beyond the aimless wandering along a river trail. Of that, Thor was certain.

He sat with his brother’s head in his lap and watched the storm approach.

Thor woke some time in the night after the storm had blown itself out. Beads of clinging rain reflected starlight in the grasses along the lake, and the air smelled of fresh water.

The fire had died down, but Thor did not stir its embers.

He could see lights.

He looked first to Loki, still asleep.

Thor hesitated only a moment, then took up Mjolnir, and made his way to the lakeside.

Lights danced across the surface of the still water. They floated, as buoyant as seeds upon the wind, spinning first in a circle then darting over the lake in great leaps and bounds. They seemed little more than distant glowing baubles until Thor looked harder, and could discern the vague outlines of shapes around them.

Dancing figures. Holding hands. Laughing a sound like wind through reed grass.

Thor couldn’t help his smile.

“This is Alfheim,” he said aloud, proud to have found a name for the realm. He remembered fondly the stories his mother read him of elves.

They must have heard him, as the lights paused in their incessant swirling. They hesitated, wavering upon the air, until abruptly darting forward. They swept up and around him on the shore, tossing his cloak and hair in a playful bout.

Thor laughed, turning, holding his arms out when the lights formed into curious hands and faces. They poked at his armor and pulled at his cloak, childlike in their wonder.

“I am Thor Odinson,” he said, as gentle as possible. The sound of a rough voice felt as though it might do harm to such fragile beings. “Of Asgard.”

He heard their airy laughter. The faces among the lights swirled, faded in and out from sight. He heard his name echoed in harmonized voices.

They seemed particularly taken with Mjolnir.

 _Loki_! he felt the urge to shout, immediate and unquestioned. _Come see_! But he did not wish to startle them.

And Loki would not have heard.

“What may I call you?”

All at once the figures reformed into their lights and spun, so fast as to become a single luminescent column. They broke and sped across the surface of the lake at a pace even Sleipnir could not match, leaving barely a ripple behind them.

“Wait!” Thor called, and gave chase until the water splashed over the height of his boots. He stopped and stood in the shallows of the lake, watching as the lights rose, fell, and finally disappeared beneath the surface.

Though he waited, they did not come again.

He trudged away from the lake and back to the cave, shoulders heavy.

Loki was sitting up and helping himself to what remained of the fish when he arrived.

Immediately Thor’s posture lifted.

“Loki!”

He hurried to embrace him, forgetting – for a few blissful heartbeats – all that had happened on the Bifrost. What had almost happened to Jotunheim. Thor saw only his brother, and knew only relief that he was well.

The look Loki had for him in return as he lifted his eyes halted Thor’s joy, and his steps.

A darkness lingered there. Anger and hate.

And, for the moment, annoyance.

Thor lowered his arms, and stood, feeling suddenly very large in the small cave.

“You expected otherwise?” Loki finished the bit of meat left on the roasted fishbone he held, and threw the leftovers at Thor’s feet.

Thor looked down at it. He did not know why.

“I am glad to see you,” he said, a degree more sedately. “Awake.”

Loki made a disdainful sound. He kept his face turned away, gesturing at the fire to stir its flames.

“All compliments to your handiwork.” He touched the side of his jaw gingerly, not completely healed.

A proper response eluded Thor for some time. He would not apologize. He harbored no regret for his actions.

Still, he looked to his brother with a longing to say _something_. Countless questions rose and crowded upon each other, each one striving to find their way to the top of his throat. The result was a sensation like that of being stifled. None of them able to break free.

“Loki,” he finally managed, and took a step closer. Wary.

Loki did not look at him. His focus lay on another fishbone.

Thor closed his hands then willed them to relax. He drew a breath, reaching through the mess of confusion that was his thoughts for the one question that felt most important. Beyond all others.

“Loki. What has happened?”

In the wake of his own words, Thor knew Loki could have answered him perfectly well in sarcasm. Or ignorance. He could have made some scathing remark toward his lack of specificity. Thor half expected it.

That Loki said nothing led him to believe Loki knew perfectly well what he meant.

What had happened while Thor had been banished to Earth? What had transpired in Asgard in his absence?

What had happened to _him_?

Thor needed to know.

Loki tossed another fishbone picked clean at him. This time it hit Thor’s chestplate before falling to the ground.

“Get me more fish,” he said.

Thor frowned.

Loki yawned, and stretched.

“I’m famished,” he said, finally looking Thor’s way with a weary expectation. “My head feels as though it will split. We’ve landed in this Norn-forsaken place where you’ve seen fit to wander further and further away from the closest point connecting us to Asgard. The least you could do is feed me.”

“Loki.”

“Get me more fish.” Loki waved a dismissive hand as he would at a palace servant. “Then we will speak.”

Thor relented. He made his way back to where the river dumped itself into the lake’s stillness. Stripped down, he waded into the middle and put his hands in the water, and waited.

Never before would Thor have thought to list patience among his virtues. He had never been particularly skilled at fishing, but necessity had never before demanded it.

If he stood still enough in the river that the fish grew accustomed to his presence, he could wait until one wandered close enough to grab, then toss it up onto the bank. Hogun had shown him the method some time ago in their youth.

He was rather proud of the few he’d been able to catch.

As he waited, Thor stared at his reflection in the dark water, wondering if the changes he’d undergone in his time on Earth revealed themselves anywhere in his features.

Perhaps patience was another thing he had learned over the course of his exile.

When he returned with the fish, Loki ate his fill.

Then he promptly rolled over and fell asleep, citing exhaustion and a full stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _For untold ages crackling embers from Muspelheim and crystals of ice from Niflheim whirled around the dark and dismal pit. As they spun together, faster and faster, the fire kindled a spark of life within the ice. An enormous, ugly shape rose roaring from Ginungagap. It the frost giant, Ymir, first of the race of the Jotuns. At his side a hornless cow came mooing from the pit.”_

_“A cow?” Thor interrupted again._

_Loki nodded._

_“A cow.”_

_“Why a cow?”_

_“I don’t know. Why a frost giant?”_

_Thor sat up and set his weight on his hands, suddenly frowning._

_“You’re saying that the frost giants are older than even Asgard?”_

_“I’m not saying,” Loki said airily, tapping the illustration on the open page. “The book is saying.”_

_Thor eyed the book warily. His eyes narrowed, freckles bunching upon his nose._

_“Does father know you took that book from the library?”_

_Loki’s response came in the form of a grin and barely-contained giggle._

_It was infectious._

_“Shall I keep going?”_

_Thor nodded, now eager._

_Loki turned the page._

_“Together, Jotun and cow lived on the rim of Ginungagap…_ ”

***

When Thor woke, Loki was gone.

An initial jolt sat him upright. Thor held himself for a moment still, listening to cheerful birdsong. He looked towards the mouth of the cave. Bright sunlight cast the surrounding landscape in vibrant color.

The sun was already high.

Had he truly slept so long?

Thor swallowed the thick resistance in his throat. That Loki was not there was not immediate reason for concern. He could have gone to the lake to bathe. It had been some time since Loki had seen water or a fresh change of clothes.

Though the same could be said for himself.

Thor wondered if he was starting to smell.

But Loki was not at the lake. Nor did any answer come as Thor bellowed his name into the forest with increasing agitation.

He paced along the lake’s shore, ducked into the treeline. Loki could have gone into the woods to find food, or to hunt, and had simply wandered beyond the reach of Thor’s voice.

With Mjolnir’s help, Thor lifted himself into the air, though he could see nothing beyond the rise of mountains and green trees.

As the sun rose higher and higher and ultimately began to set, hope turned to bile in the back of Thor’s mouth.

The doubt planted within him since their landing bloomed thick and dark.

Of course Loki had gone. Of course he had fled. Thor had been a fool to drop his guard so easily. He would never find Loki in this vast, unfriendly realm, if he did not want to be found. Even the faintest hopes Thor had of reuniting their family died with the certainty.

Thor roared his frustration, and let Mjolnir fly. She felled three trees and smashed a boulder to rubble before returning to his hand.

The destruction did not entirely sate his temper.

Scowling, Thor knew not what else to do but return to the cave, and look for some sign of Loki’s passing in the sand and soft grass lining its mouth.

Even as he knew there would be none.

He had not yet come into sight of the lake when a scream cut the still air.

Thor ran and burst from the treeline, Mjolnir in hand.

The lake was a pool of gold in the late afternoon light. Its stillness would have made Thor think of one of his mother’s dressing mirrors, were it not shattered by coils and churning water as a great beast rose from its depths.

The screams came from a young maiden in the shallows, struggling to escape its grip.

Thor did not think she would make more than a mouthful of meal for the monster, as it opened its jaws lined with rows upon rows of jagged teeth.

He did not hesitate.

Mjolnir struck true, landing hard against the beast’s glistening side. Though she dug deep, the watery creature’s skin gave, leaving no real gouge in its flesh.

Still, it was enough to knock it down. The beast turned its milky white eyes from the girl and settled upon him. It righted itself with a hiss.

Thor caught Mjolnir in one hand, and stood ready.

“If you wish to feast on innocent maidens,” he shouted across the water, “then Thor Odinson is your foe!”

The beast roared.

Thor roared back.

The girl scrambled away from the lake’s edge. Thor did not think to look where she went.

The beast poised, its long body arched in serpentine preparation to strike. Spines bristled along its back and its jaw gaped to flutter ruffled gills.

Then a long tendril darted beneath the water, quick as an eel to latch around Thor’s ankle where he stood just on the shore.

It pulled him into the water, and under.

Thor’s shout came in a series of bubbles as he was hauled deep. He broke the surface of the water again only when the beast tossed him high, slapped him back down against the water to knock him senseless.

Fortunately, it was difficult to knock an Asgardian such as Thor senseless.

He coughed and growled and spit water as he struggled, reaching down to pry the thing’s coil from his ankle.

The beast hissed.

Two more roping arms latched around him as he kicked free: one at his shoulder, the other around his waist. The beast seemed made of the writhing tentacles. Thor fought as he was lifted once more into the air, this time dragged in towards the beast’s wide open mouth.

He struck with Mjolnir, shattering the beast’s jaw from its place.

Another coil wrapped around his neck, choking tight.

Thor held his breath and braced himself, pulled closer to the monster’s broken but still salivating teeth.

Closer.

He waited until he was within arm’s reach before he pointed Mjolnir at the sky.

Clouds drifting only sparsely before gathered to her. Thickened. Grew dark. A single roar of thunder echoed over the mountains, and Thor called down a bolt of lightning to slam into one of the beast’s great white eyes.

Thor could feel the pulse and jolt of energy conduct through the monster. Its grip tightened and contorted, threatened to squeeze him until he burst.

At last the lightning dispersed and all collapsed into the water in a limp, smoking heap.

Thor untangled himself as the beast began to sink. He swam for water shallow enough he could stand, tossed wet hair from his face, and looked toward the shore.

Part of him wished Loki had been there to see.

The girl crouched in the shallows instead, huddled with her knees drawn close to her chest. Settling water lapped at her bare feet.

Thor waded close enough to offer a gentle hand.

“You are unharmed?”

She looked to him sharply, recoiling. Her clothes and hair hung as bedraggled as his. She did not flee, but the wariness with which she regarded him gave Thor cause to pull his hand back.

“I mean you no harm,” he said. He spread his hands to either side, the one that did not hold Mjolnir open, palm friendly. “I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard.”

The girl held her hands close to herself, a tension in her posture. But it was not the fear of a frightened rabbit.

Her gauging of him seemed more like that of a snake, deciding whether or not to strike.

Gradually, she eased, and stood from her crouch.

Thor found his smile, and lightly bowed his head.

“What may I call you?”

The girl did not answer. She stepped near, and lifted one hand.

Thor held himself still as she cupped it against his cheek, brushed her fingers over his beard and the drops of water still trailing down his skin.

Something alighted in her eyes, and she giggled.

Thor smiled with her, thinking it only polite.

She turned, and stepped neatly out of the water. Her bare feet made soft impressions on the sand.

Thor wondered if she had lost her footwear to the creature.

“Shall I carry you?” he offered, following without nearly so much grace. “Are you hurt?”

She looked back to him, smiling still. A light gesture of her hand beckoned him to follow as she ducked into the trees.

***

Thor followed her along the line of the mountains. The girl picked her way through faint animal trails that wove among the trees, then across open ground as the landscape sloped down and down towards flatter land. Forest and field gradually gave way to bare rock. Wind blew in their faces that carried upon it the scent of salt.

Before long, Thor could hear the call of seabirds.

Night overtook the realm. It brought with it a thick fog from the direction of the sea.

The fog’s appearance was sudden. Thor could not recall seeing it from a distance under the light of the three moons. He did not realize he had stumbled into it until it had already grown too thick around him to see.

He turned in circles, reached out his hands, and was certain he would have been lost had the girl not taken his wrist and led him confidently on.

Loose shale scraped beneath their steps. Dark shapes of birds darted through the mist overhead. Now and again one would dive at them and bite their hair.

Thor smacked one away with the back of his hand when it proved too eager.

“Where are we going?” he asked his guide several times, though she did not answer. She would only look back to him and smile. A smile that was both soothing and suspicious.

Abruptly, the fog broke, and they stood upon the bare rock of a cliff overlooking the sea.

A grand keep stood sentinel upon the cliff’s edge, facing the sound of the waves. Its stern walls were black beneath the purple sky, the bright points of windows glowing as ember eyes from lights within. Swirling clouds of seabirds flew overhead, their bellies underlit by the keep’s inner fires.

Thor stared. The girl led him to the keep’s main gate. It opened with barely a sound.

Inside, a grand reception awaited.

“My daughter!” bellowed a voice.

Thor lifted his eyes as a man swept down a prominent set of stairs just inside the keep’s entrance. Voluminous dark red robes trailed behind him, as did two attendants. His great smile poured from the waves of his beard, and both his size and girth would have made Volstagg small by comparison.

The girl left Thor’s side and ran to him, all but disappearing in his embrace.

Something about the man struck Thor as familiar.

“Greetings, my friend!” he bellowed some more, and waved Thor closer. “Come in! Come in! Come in away from that dreadful fog!”

Thor felt himself pulled into a comradely embrace, so genial for a moment he could not breathe. He returned the gesture as best as he could.

“Thor?”

The man pushed him back to arm’s length to get a look at him in the firelight.

“Thor Odinson. By my beard, is that you?”

Thor stood a moment confused, though he smiled and bowed his head in greeting.

“You know of me?”

“Why, it is Thor!” The man clapped his shoulder in a hand that all but engulfed him. “Who doesn’t know the golden son of Asgard? What’s the matter, my boy? Do you not recognize me?”

Thor made a pained face, and said nothing.

The man laughed, and clapped his shoulder again. This time Thor grunted.

“It’s me! Aegir!”

“Aegir?”

He laughed.

“I’ll understand if you do not know me. The last time we spoke you were quite drunk.”

Memory sparked, and Thor’s face alighted.

“Lord Aegir!” Thor clasped his hand in return, though both his hands together could not fully encompass Aegir’s wrist. “I am sorry! I did not know this keep was yours.”

“Not many do, my boy. But come in!” Aegir’s arm encircled his shoulders and turned to walk Thor into the keep. “When my lovely Hefring did not return home by sunset I began to fear the worst. Then who should she return with but the Thunderous One himself!”

Thor laughed with him, though it felt less than sincere.

He had not felt terribly deserving of titles in recent days.

Thor cast his eyes over the keep as Aegir led the way through it.

“Tell me, my boy! What brings you to humble Alfheim?”

“Misfortune, it pains me to say.”

In the night the interior walls were as black as without, cast in deep shadows by braziers burning high. The stone glistened as though wet. When Thor passed near enough he could see the tiny impression of seashells and remnants of coral that composed them. What looked like tufts of seaweed or moss grew in patches upon the walls, and along the ramparts seabirds made their nests.

“Misfortune?” Aegir repeated, with a somber tilt of his head. “Fret not! I’ll have my servants prepare you a bath and fresh change of clothes. Then together we shall feast, and you may forget your cares over grog and good stories.”

“You do me much kindness,” said Thor.

Aegir laughed.

“It is the least I can do for the sons of Odin, who has shown me as much hospitality in times past.”

“Sons?”

Thor stopped, and looked to his host.

“Oh yes,” said Aegir, curious. “Your brother arrived only this morning. It seems odd he made no mention of you.”

Thor’s look removed quickly from wonder. It darkened as he turned his face from the fire’s light, a twisting in his gut as he recalled the anger and inability to understand Loki’s abandonment. His lies.

Then Thor saw him.

Perhaps he had appeared at the mention of him, or perhaps he had been there all along. Loki stood high upon the walkway near the ramparts, arms folded over his chest. He looked thin and dark. The scowl he cast down fell as airy and detached as the black eyes of the seabirds.

Thor hoped Loki saw his glare in return.

“Is something wrong?” Aegir asked.

Thor growled.

“I would have words with my brother.”

“Ah.”

Aegir’s great hands ushered him on, further into the keep, where Loki’s image was lost from sight.

“There will be time enough for that. Let’s get you presentable.”


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Together, Jotun and cow lived on the rim of Ginungagap. The Jotun did not lack for food. Four rivers of snow-white froth flowed like milk from the huge ice cow’s udder, and Ymir drank and drank and grew to a towering height.”_

_“So it’s an ice cow now, is it?” Thor smirked._

_Loki shrugged. “It looks like a regular cow to me.”_

_He tilted the book up so Thor could see the illustration._

_“Why didn’t he just eat the cow?” Thor asked._

_“Then there would be no milk.”_

_“I didn’t know Jotuns liked milk.” Thor frowned, thinking this over. “What did the cow eat?”_

_“It says here she licked salt off the brim of Ginungagap.”_

_“A cow can’t live on salt alone!”_

_Loki grumbled: “It was magic salt._ ”

***

What followed next reminded Thor of when he was young and fussed over by his mother every time she had to wrangle him into taking a bath.

Thor realized quickly that Lord Aegir had only two servants. The rest of the keep sat empty, save for Aegir himself and his daughters.

The servants were Fimafeng and Eldir.

Though they were but two, they were everywhere at once.

Thor could recall distinctly the servants accompanying Aegir and himself as he was shown to a set of guest chambers. Aegir issued orders and instructions without cease, already laying plans for the meal that night and a grander feast to take place on the morrow in honor of his two distinguished guests.

He wouldn’t hear Thor’s protests of how he could not stay. Of how it was important he return home.

“This day or the next,” Aegir said merrily. “Asgard will still be there.”

Never once did either servant leave his side. Yet when Thor stepped into the guest chambers, they were already within, tidying the bed and filling a corner basin with fresh water.

And again when they showed him to a hot bath. And again when they presented him with fresh clothes after.

Neither servant spoke a word.

Thor learned of Aegir’s other daughters when he caught them peeking in on his bath.

He closed the shutters after that.

The servants provided clean linens and soaps that smelled heavily of salt. Thor did not make much use of them beyond what was necessary, his attention only half on where he was.

He yearned to confront Loki, whether to ask his questions again or to throttle him. Part of him expected Loki to invite himself into the wash room while Thor bathed away the journey’s travel. Unannounced. Thinking himself an inconvenience, as he always had.

Part of Thor wished he would.

But Loki did not appear.

Thor did not allow himself to believe too wholeheartedly that Loki would still be there by the time he arrived in Aegir’s dining hall.

If Loki meant to shun him, he would.

Yet there he sat, just to one side of their host. He spoke pleasantly with a gleaming silver goblet in one hand from which he would every now and then sip.

His eyes found Thor immediately upon his arrival, and he fell quiet.

“My boy!” Aegir greeted, rising to stand. He gestured him in with great sweeps of his arm, indicating the spread over the long table before them.

“Come in! Have a seat! You must be fatigued from your efforts today!”

Thor bowed, and took his seat on Aegir’s other side. The custom was the same as in Asgard, where the host sat at the center of the long tables. Turning to face him, Thor could also keep his eyes on Loki. Perhaps catch his gaze while he spoke.

But Loki kept his face largely turned away or focused down on the meal.

Thor may as well not have existed.

The table was laden with fish.

There were some breads and vegetables to be had, and rich wine that tasted very different from anything Thor had ever sampled in Asgard – different even from the Boiler Makers of Earth – but satisfying nonetheless. Thor had not realized how tense he remained even after his bath until he felt the first draught of wine ease his shoulders, cool on the back of his throat.

The rest of the long table lay covered in other fruits from the sea: shellfish and seaweed and a variety of small, many-legged creatures Thor did not recognize.

But their taste was exquisite.

“Hefring told me of how you battled the creature in the lake,” Aegir said, speaking over mouthfuls and gulps of drink. “Vile thing.”

“Is she well?” Thor asked. “She did not seem able to speak after.”

Aegir laughed.

“Hefring is wary of strangers. As are all my daughters. But worry not! She is well, and I would thank you for being so brave as to come to her rescue.”

Thor bowed his head.

“I did only as I must.”

Aegir thumped the table and laughed.

“Humility, too! Are you certain you were not struck on the head, my boy? You seem a far cry from the brazen youth I remember in Asgard, standing on a table and recounting stories of glorious battles past.”

Thor smiled a little, though it felt heavy. He remembered the grand feasts and celebrations Aegir arranged in Asgard several times throughout his youth. Lord Aegir’s feasts were famous, and well earned of their reputation, even if he remembered them only through a glimmering haze of drink.

“Much time has passed since then,” he said. “And, as you mentioned, I was quite drunk.”

“I would hear the story of the battle even so.” Aegir gestured with a sliver of fish spitted on the end of his knife. “Tell me! How did you slay the beast?”

Thor recounted his battle with the creature in the lake. He stated it simply, with little pomp and indulgence. He had never possessed his brother’s talent for poetry, or Volstagg and Fandral’s tendency for exaggeration.

In the wake of all that had happened on Earth, fame and glory seemed less important than they once had.

Even moreso when set beside the truth.

Thor did not mention how they had come to be in Alfheim.

Loki was quiet the long while, eyes focused ahead as he sipped his drink.

“Those beasts have long been a plague on my family,” said Aegir when he’d finished. He sat back in his chair, hands coming to rest on his belly bloated full. “They wreck my ships and attack my daughters. They are vile things!”

“Where are your daughters?” Thor noticed the lack of company in the feast hall.

Aegir seemed to think nothing of it.

“They are dining separately. It is our custom.”

“There are more of these creatures?”

“Countless! I cannot tell you how many men have died trying to slay them all.”

“Why do they attack you?”

Aegir chortled, and gestured around them.

“I am lord of this keep, and the sea that surrounds it. My fleet of ships is the finest in all the realms. I control the tides and all creatures that ride the waves, but these monsters are of no natural origin. They defy my authority and would rise to challenge me.”

“Are they truly so difficult to slay?”

“Oh, they can be slain. More rise to fill their place.” He chuckled, and sent a wink Thor’s way. “The one you faced today must have been one of the smaller, if it was able to fit into a single lake.”

“Smaller.”

Thor bit into a shellfish without looking. His teeth cracked a particularly hard spot.

“But it was quite large?”

“There are much larger beyond.”

Aegir gestured to a wide-cut opening in the feast hall that allowed a view of the sea as they ate. In the dark of night only the light of the moons upon the water could be seen, their reflections shimmering where they broke on gentle waves.

Thor looked, though he could see nothing else.

“There is one in particular. I believe it is their sire.”

Aegir sighed, and stroked his beard.

“I have named it Lyngbakr.”

Loki finally spoke.

“Does it disguise itself as an island?” he murmured, almost casually.

Aegir found his smile again, and beamed.

“You’ve heard tale of it!”

Loki’s smile was thin, hovering just over the edge of his cup.

“You named it for a type of heather,” he said. “If heather grows along its back and it is as large as you say, such a beast could easily impersonate an island to lure sailors.”

Aegir laughed, full and hearty.

“And so it does! I have lost a good number of ships to that beast’s appetite. Many have come forward to challenge the creature, but none have yet returned triumphant.”

His eyes slid across to Thor’s, and met them with deep meaning.

“Should they return at all.”

Thor felt a sudden awareness, like a heavy cloak being draped about his shoulders. He swallowed another mouthful of wine.

He felt he knew what Aegir would ask of him.

“I would gladly face such a threat if it would repay the kind hospitality you have shown us,” he said, deep and even.

“The debt is mine, my boy,” Aegir nodded. “You have saved my daughter. Therefore you are welcome guests in my keep. But if the Norns have sent you and your powerful hammer to rid me of this bane, then let them be praised!”

He raised his cup to toast.

Thor raised his in response. They clacked together with a hollow sound, and they drank.

“Thor won’t be staying,” Loki murmured, undercutting Aegir’s merriment with a soft voice. “He is so very eager to get home.”

Aegir swung his attention round.

“Oh?”

“That is,” said Thor, haltingly. “If once this Lyngbakr is dead, is it in your power to arrange transport for us back to Asgard?”

“Any of my ships could make the journey easily,” Aegir nodded. “I have done so many times.”

“Then let it be done quickly. Our father…” Thor looked to Loki. He knew not why. “…will want to hear from us.”

Loki did not return his look.

Aegir cast his gaze between them, aware of the sudden quiet.

“Is the Bifrost not open to you?” he asked with a greater severity.

Thor lowered his eyes, unable to maintain his look under the weight of guilt.

“The Bifrost is not open to us.”

“I see.” Aegir looked between them again. Aware, perhaps, of something else. “Then how was it you came to Alfheim?”

Thor waited a moment.

When Loki did not answer, when a quick look cast his brother’s way revealed only a smirk – Loki deliberately waited to see what Thor would say – Thor clenched his jaw tight.

He closed his eyes, and sighed, attempting not to remember too much of the battle that had taken place upon the rainbow bridge. Listening not to the Destroyer’s roar or the sound of the Bifrost’s explosion echoing in his thoughts.

“Misfortune,” was all he said.

***

The guest chambers Aegir had prepared for them were in one of the taller towers overlooking the keep: great round rooms, with wide partitions in the stone walls through which to view the sea.

The night lay dark. The keep sat quiet. The sea appeared as another rippling sky through which the stars shone, when Thor crept out of his chambers to find Loki.

He did not see Aegir’s servants, nor any of his daughters in the darkened corridors. Aegir had explained as he walked them to their rooms in the wake of the meal that the majority of the keep had been built with his daughters’ safety and comfort in mind. They were protective of their privacy, as he was protective of them. They were not accustomed to having such distinguished guests.

He advised strongly against either Thor or Loki wandering the keep alone after dark.

Thor heeded his warning, but he had to speak to his brother.

Alone.

Loki’s chambers were nearby. Thor had made a point of remembering their location before the keep went dark.

He found the door easily enough. The latch was unlocked.

He gripped the handle, and opened it inward as quietly as he could.

Thor held his breath, half expecting Loki to again be gone. Between the meal and Thor waiting for the right time to emerge, there had been plenty opportunity for him to escape.

Escape, Thor thought to himself, as though a fleeing criminal.

Did he truly think of him that way?

He saw Loki’s outline in the bed across the chamber, silhouetted in the colors of moonlight that fell in from the window.

Relief flooded his body. Thor stepped in quickly and shut the door. He had only turned to make his way to the bed when he stopped, his boots hesitant to leave where they had planted.

He looked up.

Loki sat reclined in a recess of the stone wall just overhead. His boots crossed where they were propped on a support beam of thick wood.

Two knives rested easily in his hand.

“So you are not a complete fool,” came his low voice.

“Not yet,” said Thor, turning to better face him.

The illusion in the bed faded.

Both he and Loki’s armor had been taken away for cleaning by Aegir’s servants, leaving them in more comfortable noblewear provided by their host.

No matter what the realm or how far they were from home, Loki still found a shade of green to wear.

He made no indication of coming down.

Thor looked to him, picking out his image even in deep shadow.

“Will you speak to me now?” he said, half in query and half in demand.

“What is there to say?” Loki’s voice drifted down to him in the dark, soft and light as featherfall.

“There is much I would know.”

“And so much you don’t know.”

“Loki!” Thor did not shout, but he weighed the wisdom of calling Mjolnir to him to smash the rocks beneath Loki’s seating in order to bring him down. Catch him in his fist so he might shake the cryptic reticence out of him. He had left Mjolnir in his chambers, certain he would not need her.

But if he called, she would come, no matter what stone walls barred her way.

“What has happened to you?” Thor demanded, taking upon the task of speaking if Loki would not. “What have I done to draw this unbearable hatred? I cannot remedy it if I do not know!”

For a moment, Loki was quiet.

When he spoke again, it was at a whisper.

“Hatred,” fell the sound. “Is that what you think this is?”

“I would know if it were otherwise.” Thor spread his hands. “But you will not speak to me.”

“Would you understand if I did?”

“I would try.”

Loki shifted. He leaned forward in the dark. A sliver of moonlight crossed his eyes, and for a moment Thor saw them as red.

It was the light. He was certain.

“You speak as though I am the only one who has changed,” Loki hissed. A sound of burning water.

Thor braced against the urge to flinch, so sharp did it cut.

“We both have,” said Thor, taking a breath. “If not all for the better.”

“You so easily believe I fell to irredeemable wickedness in only a few days?”

“What else can I believe when you so wantonly attempt to kill humans and all of Jotunheim?”

Loki sneered.

“You would have done the same, at one time. Before that woman robbed you of your senses and returned a stranger in your place.”

Thor shook his head. He would not allow Loki to distract him by turning his inquiry back on himself.

“Tell me why you did it.”

“Why Thor,” Loki purred. “Is it not obvious?”

He tilted his head.

“I did it for you. For all of us.”

“What?”

Thor frowned, and in that instant, Loki retreated. He withdrew back into his shadow.

Thor moved as though to follow.

“I don’t understand…”

“Of course you don’t.” Loki’s whisper slithered in the dark. “You never see anything beyond what is directly before you.”

“But…the Destroyer? How was killing me, or our friends, or all of Jotunheim…? How was that for any of our benefit?”

“You weren’t fit to be king!” Loki snapped, sudden. “You never were! Odin would not see, so I showed him. Then to make you worthy and destroy our foes when war threatened, I did what neither of you could. Only to be told I was wrong. That I was _mad_.”

“Loki…”

Truth dawned, and its light seared onto open wounds. Thor squinted his eyes against the confusion of Loki’s words, of hearing Loki refer to their father by name – it sounded so strange – and yearned to reach for him. If only to pull him down and see the truth in his eyes. See that this was not some other elaborate lie.

When words failed him, Loki withdrew, and settled back onto his perch.

“That aside,” he said, much more calmly, “you needn’t worry. Heimdall will have already seen where we’ve landed. He will reassure Odin you live.”

“And you,” Thor strained.

It began to make sense, if Thor made the effort to think of things in a Loki-sort of way. His banishment to Earth. His need to prove himself worthy in order to return home. How could he have ever proven himself without trial? Without an enemy? Without something to show he was willing to _die_ to protect those who could not protect themselves?

And as for Jotunheim, had he not ridden at the head of his friends to do battle with them in the beginning? Of course he had longed for battle.

Loki made a scoffing sound.

“You are Odin’s heir,” he said. Then, darker: “You always have been.”

“Come home,” said Thor, and did not hide his plea. “When this is over, we can return together. We can explain to father—”

“No.”

“ _Loki_.”

Loki turned his face away, withdrawing further into the dark.

“I have no intention of ever going back to that place.”

“But it is our home!” Thor stepped forward again. He stood almost directly beneath him. “Our friends. Our family. It is where we belong.”

“You would have me back?”

Thor did not hesitate in his answer, or in its authority.

“I would.”

Loki laughed.

“Do be careful, Thor. You may sound as though you’re condoning my actions.”

“I…do not condone them.” Thor pressed his lips together tight. “But I would see them made right.”

“To see them made right would have me thrown into a dungeon and locked there.”

“Father will welcome you back.”

That laugh again.

“Oh, I suspect Odin will have me back whether I wish it or not.”

Thor saw Loki’s grin, a knife-slash in the dark.

“Someone must be held responsible for the Bifrost’s destruction. There is also the matter of Jotunheim, and who Odin will toss them to slake their thirst for vengeance after what was done.”

“I will not lead you home in chains like some common criminal,” Thor growled.

“Am I not?”

“No.”

Thor did not see him move, but when Loki spoke next, his voice sounded behind him.

“Then what am I?”

Thor stepped quickly to face him, unconsciously reaching for the hammer not at his side.

He tensed his arm, closed his hand into a fist.

Lowered it.

“You are my brother,” he said. “And a prince of Asgard.”

Thor met Loki’s eyes and held them with such firmness as to refuse to let him pull away again.

Loki maintained himself under that look, though something in his posture wavered. He pressed his lips together tight.

Thor seized the opportunity to speak again.

“Even if I do not fully understand, I will believe there is reason behind what you’ve done.”

Thor took a step closer to him.

“I will not turn my back on you, as you have so easily on me.”

Loki looked to him, and it was a searching look. The look of someone lost, straining to see something familiar and longed for that remained elusive on the distant horizon.

Thor saw openness there, and reached for him, before Loki flitted away like smoke on a breeze once more.

He cupped the back of Loki’s head, cradling just over his nape, the way he had always done. The way he did before that doomed, would-be coronation, when they stood together in the alcove.

That time felt so long ago.

Had it really only been days?

He tried not to think of Jane, or the other friends he’d left behind on Earth. Unless they found another way between the realms or the Bifrost was restored, he would never see them again.

But they had been saved.

Now, all that remained…

Loki moved suddenly very close. His hand cupped the back of Thor’s neck to mirror his gesture.

Thor’s eyes grew wide. Immediately he made as though to pull away.

Loki wouldn’t have it. His hand on the back of his neck squeezed firm, and held him in place.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

His breath fell on Thor’s lips.

“We’re being watched.”

Thor blinked, and moved his eyes over their surroundings as best he could. Loki would not allow him to turn his head.

He could think of no words, though he meant to ask who was watching them. Where were they hiding, and why?

He could see Loki’s individual lashes, he was so close. And the points of light from the sea reflecting in his eyes.

When several heartbeats passed – Thor did not think to count them – he remembered he had to breathe.

“Loki,” he murmured. “What is this?”

Loki at last withdrew, though he did not let go. He locked their eyes instead.

“Do not look around,” he said, with a severity that allowed no room for question. “Leave now and return to your chambers as though nothing has happened.”

Thor frowned, finding Loki more tolerable at this distance.

“I will not.”

Loki frowned back.

“I’m sorry?”

In any other circumstance his offense would have been comical.

“When last we slept, you disappeared.” Thor stood his ground. “I will not let it happen again.”

For a moment, Loki looked as though he might strike him. It reminded Thor of a thousand and one times in their youth, when he would do or say something Loki found so intolerably irrelevant he had no recourse but to cuff the back of his head.

It was an oddly comforting sensation.

“Then find a place to make yourself comfortable here,” Loki sneered. “I, at least, do not intend to deprive myself of rest.”

He peeled away and made for the bed, pulling off his boots as he went.

“Very well,” said Thor, and followed. He made his way to the other side of the bed, where he took a seat and did much the same.

Loki watched with a growing scowl.

“What are you doing?” 

“Making myself comfortable.”

The scowl grew.

“Not in my bed.”

Thor looked to him over his shoulder.

“We have shared a bed before.”

“When we were children!”

“Yes, and you would crawl in to mine because you were afraid of storms.”

Loki turned his scowl – in the full fledge of life by then – to one side, glaring a hole into the wall.

He did not like being reminded.

Thor allowed himself a smile over the tiny victory, and settled among the blankets and pillows.

Reluctantly, and after much debate, Loki did the same. He lay down with his back towards Thor and on top of the blankets, that there was no chance for them to touch.

He scooted as much distance between them as possible.

“Do not touch me once I’m asleep,” he said sourly. “I’ll put a knife in your ribs before I realize it’s you.”

“Goodnight, Loki.”

The air around them settled. For a long while Thor lay on his back and stared at the dark stone ceiling. He listened to the sounds of the seabirds, quieter somehow, though he knew they flew just overhead beyond the keep’s walls. He heard the waves through the window and listened to Loki’s breathing as it gradually grew slower. Gentler.

At length, he turned his head aside and looked to his brother’s back.

“Loki?” he whispered.

Loki made a humming sound, half-awake.

“Are you going to attack me in my sleep?”

“No.” Loki grumbled, irritated.

Thor rolled onto his side to better see him.

“Are you going to run away again?”

For a moment, Loki was quiet.

When he answered, it was with the weary sigh of one surrendering to inevitability.

“What would be the point?”

Thor lay with his head on his arm. Though weary, he did not feel content to rest. Sleep eluded him awhile longer, and he watched the stars turn in the sky outside.

He heard Loki’s breath come even and measured at last, and – once Thor was certain he was asleep – he reached and took gentle hold of the barest edge of his tunic. Only enough to curl his fingers in.

Only then did sleep find him, content in the knowledge that he was holding on.


	5. Chapter 5

They set out upon the waves at dawn.

It had been far too long since Thor knew the pleasure of being at sea. Like a boy the moment he set foot upon one of Aegir’s magnificent crafts he hurried to the furthest point of its prow. He placed his hands upon the polished railing and looked out at the view offered from the vantage point of its captain.

He could imagine the spray. The wind in his face. The duck and heave of the ship beneath him.

He grinned Loki’s way as he came aboard.

Loki did not share his enthusiasm.

“Not the biggest in my possession by far,” said Aegir. He gestured as he walked them over the deck. “Nor the prettiest. But she is small and fast. Better suited for hunting monsters, I think.”

“Less men to lose,” Loki said absently. His eyes swept the benches and counted the oars stored beneath them. Appraising how many could die should their venture fail, Thor did not doubt.

“Do not be so morbid,” Thor said, and clapped him on the back. His mood had bettered significantly after a night’s sleep.

And now a task lay before them. Something he could _do_. An enemy he could see and battle, rather than wrestle with intangible words and warring feelings in the dark.

Of what had transpired the night before, neither he nor Loki had spoken.

Loki would barely look at him.

Aegir and his daughters saw them to the shore. For the first time Thor beheld them together at once.

They were a beautiful sight.

Nine young women, unbound hair tangling in the wind, running from the color of a crimson sunset to pale white-gold. Their dresses were sea green and blue. They were slight compared to the women of Asgard, yet there was a wildness about them. They appeared barely content to stand still as they waved, watching the ship from the rocky beach until it disappeared into the horizon.

A few brave men from Aegir’s surrounding lands accompanied them, though not enough to fill the benches.

The unmanned oars moved on their own as they set out, rowing against the waves until they made it to calmer water. Then the wind pressed them on.

“I will keep the sea gentle for you,” Aegir had said before they departed. “The winds shall be steady. You will have no trouble.”

That Aegir did not accompany them, Thor did not question. He had noticed how the ship bowed into the water under the Lord’s great weight when he’d stepped aboard.

The sea lay before them like a well-trod path. The ship raced upon its surface with the speed and confidence of any warhorse.

Thor held onto a taut rope and stood upon the railing, laughing as now and again a crest of water would rise over the prow of the ship and catch him in its spray.

He pushed back dampened hair, breathed in deep with the rise and fall of the ship to better feel the same rolling momentum in his chest.

It felt like living.

He caught Loki watching him.

Loki had agreed to accompany Thor and the crew on their venture, for which Thor was grateful. Thor would have dragged him along regardless, if only for his own peace of mind that Loki was there and not run away again. This way there was no argument.

Thus far, Loki had sat quietly along the lining of the ship, chin in one hand as he looked out over the waves. He traced runes with the other along the railing that disappeared quickly in the wake of his finger.

Some kind of protection, Thor imagined.

Their armor had been restored to them before they’d departed, clean and polished and mended of the damage taken in the fight on the bridge. Thor wore most of his, though in preference for travel he kept his arms bare and his cloak stowed. He could summon both back in an instant with Mjolnir should the need arise.

Loki did much the same, lounging in the travel clothes Aegir had provided. He sat as calm and easy as a cat, letting the men row and the sea pass by on all sides.

In that instant, he seemed somehow separated from it all. As though he were merely an observer. The potential threat that lay before did not worry him. What lay broken in the past did not disturb him. There was only now to enjoy, with the sunlight and the wind and the feel of cool ocean spray.

But Thor looked back once, responding to a shout from one of the crew that they were drawing close to the monster’s preferred hunting ground, and saw him.

Loki was watching him. Thor caught the expression on his face in the split instant before it vanished.

He had been smiling.

The realization struck Thor that he had not seen his brother genuinely smile since before that ill-fated ride to Jotunheim, when they mounted their horses in preparation to depart.

That was the last time they had been happy together.

Loki turned his face away quickly, back to the waves. Then it was Thor whose gaze lingered, willing to see that smile once again.

The crewman shouted. They were approaching a fog bank.

The sea lay flat and still by then. No more waves provided that sensation of galloping.

Thor gripped his rope handhold and looked out over the prow. Fog like a wall rose before them, its tendrils curled in silent invitation.

“Lord Aegir said he would keep the way clear for us,” he said.

“This is the beast’s doing,” the crew muttered among themselves. A few of them touched warded trinkets around their necks and made signs of protection.

Still, they pushed their oars and rowed into the fog at Thor’s direction, though he remained wary.

The wind had died. The only sound as the fog engulfed them was the dip of the oars in and out of the water, and the crew’s nervous breathing.

Towering, ghostly dark shapes formed out of the fog as they drifted. The silent sentinels were not visible until they were startlingly close, and made Thor jolt more than once. Several times they had to turn the ship sharp to avoid colliding.

They were rock formations.

“It would hide here among the rocks,” said Loki, suddenly at his side. His sharp eyes remained trained out over the water. “To better disguise itself.”

“Something so large cannot be hard to find,” Thor murmured. His heart felt giddy. The prospect of battle so near made his hand eager.

The ship bumped into something solid, and Thor leaped out onto firm ground.

“We’ll stop here,” he said.

The crew pulled in their oars, though they were reluctant to leave the ship.

“This could be the creature’s back,” one of them said.

Thor looked to the ground. Soft dirt lay damp beneath his boots. A few small plants grew. He knelt and dug his fingers into the soil as far as they could reach. He felt nothing but plant roots and a few small stones.

“This area hasn’t been charted for islands,” Loki said, also preferring to remain on the ship. He had looked over surrounding maps with Lord Aegir before they’d left. “Too dangerous.”

“Then we shall draw our monster out, if it wishes to hide.”

Thor took Mjolnir from his belt and spun her once before lifting her to the sky.

The pale gray of the fog darkened.

A rumble of thunder reverberated through the oars.

Thor called a single bolt of lightning and slammed it down Mjolnir’s haft into the ground where he stood. He felt the energy disperse through the dirt, leaving streaks of malformed glass in long tracks where it traveled.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the ground began to quake.

“You found it,” Loki murmured.

“Lyngbakr!” the crew shouted. They picked up their oars and pushed off from the false island, quick to row as the sea began to churn.

“Loki! Protect them!” Thor bellowed. His last word drowned in the spout of water that erupted from the ground. Boiling hot drops stung his skin where they landed, but Thor turned to face it, his arm acting as a shield as he squinted into the fog.

A roar rumbled from beneath, and the ground broke.

Thor took to the air. A whirlwind gathered and spun around him as he called his armor. The wind swirled, parted the fog, though the surroundings grew no brighter with the beginnings of a storm piling upon itself overhead.

What looked to be an island in the water cracked and broke. Caked layers of dirt and rock fell away, revealing the writhing muscles of a great sea beast immediately worthy of the stories told of it.

It was larger than the citadel in Asgard. The one Thor battled in the lake may as well have been a newborn.

Clawed coils shot from the water towards the retreating ship. Thor dove and batted them aside with Mjolnir’s sturdy weight.

The great arms curled, retreated, confused by this unfamiliar retaliation.

Thor found his grin in the idea that never before had an individual been able to stand against the creature’s attacks.

More tentacles appeared, and Thor struck them down. When one did manage to get by him and latch onto the ship, it was Loki Thor saw rush to the prow to bury a knife into its thick skin.

Such a small blade the great beast would barely have noticed, but the burst of magic delivered along its point into the creature’s flesh made it thrash and withdraw.

Thor grinned with all his strength. He felt the rush of battle take hold.

He hurled himself down toward the waves turned choppy with the beast’s violence. He landed on its back, slippery and wet from seawater.

The crew stabbed and crushed and bludgeoned the sea erupted with coils, but the beast would not show its face.

Thor roared down another strike of lightning. This one he embedded deep into the monster’s back. The beast arched, its spine bent to the point of breaking, and churned the sea into great white-capped waves.

Its head emerged from the water: a monstrous visage with a distended lower jaw lined in backward-facing teeth. Its eyes were easily as large as Thor himself, the same milky-white color as the beast in the lake. Its gills flared wide and it gulped air, answering Thor’s roar with a sound like the hiss of fire-hot metal doused into water.

Loki threw a knife, and struck the creature’s eye.

Thor hurled himself forward with another charged bolt already gathering.

He did not let this one strike from afar.

He threw himself into the beast’s great eye, sinking Loki’s dagger further and driving Mjolnir in to nearly her leather grip. Lightning burst around him and through him, channeled along the hammer’s embedded runes.

From such a close vantage Thor could see the beast’s inner body flicker and spark alight as it shuddered.

Wet fins flared and its jaw gaped. One tendril smacked against Thor’s armor, but he held strong.

Finally the great creature shuddered its last and collapsed, slapping into the gray-green water with the weight of one dead.

It sank, creating a swirl of whirlpool with it.

The air grew heavy with the scent of fish.

Thor landed upon one of the rock formations, still standing despite the battle, and watched until it was gone.

There was quiet.

Then the crewmen cheered.

Thor looked to where they clung to their ship, scooping out water that had spilled over the edge. Loki knelt near the prow, his hand over the runes he had drawn along the railing.

They glowed green. Thor would later learn they were all that held the ship together after it had been struck several times by the monster’s thrashing.

Thor met his brother’s eyes. They were that same detached apathy he had seen before, concentrating on his task but not overly concerned with it.

But he nodded.

And Thor smiled.

***

Their return to Aegir’s keep was met with joyous celebration.

By his preparations, Lord Aegir harbored no doubt they would triumph.

Braziers were lit. Hearth fires roared. Music struck and a feast to put the previous night’s banquet to shame was laid upon the long tables. Aegir’s keep became a palace of firelight and warm drink as the crewmen and their families danced, celebrated, toasted the success of the battle against the sea monster.

“Lyngbakr is dead!” ran the chant up and down the tables. “Praise and glory to the mighty Thor!”

For his part, Thor was gracious. He bowed his head to the praise and raised his cup to join in toasts, particularly hailing the fact they had not lost a single man.

There remained a reluctance within Thor to celebrate too whole-heartedly, a feeling only reinforced when his gaze chanced to land upon Loki across the dining hall.

Whatever Thor’s mindset, Loki seemed to uncannily capture the exact opposite.

His brother was a fine sight: slim and dark amid the bright, glittering gold of the feast. He smiled, charming and witty. He drifted among the guests and chatted with them as easily as he had ever done at the gatherings in Asgard. 

Thor felt bumbling in his words by comparison as the guests begged for a recounting of the battle for the third time.

Lord Aegir’s feasts were famed throughout Asgard, hailed even by the highest nobility to be the grandest in all the realms. Yet never in all the times Thor could recall attending such celebrations had Aegir even mentioned hosting such a banquet at his own keep.

Perhaps Thor could now reason why. The keep was actually quite small. For all the crewmen and their families in attendance, they could not equal a single meeting of Odin’s court.

Then there was the matter of Aegir’s daughters.

Thor did not see them for a good deal of the feast. Lord Aegir’s two servants flitted here and there as was their manner, everywhere at once, refilling drinks and carrying platters of food piled to overflowing.

Where exactly the music came from, he could not tell, but it filled the night air and warmed his heart to a lightness that yearned to forget the cares that lay still before him: that of returning home, of what Loki had done, of facing their father again.

By then Thor had also consumed a good deal of drink.

Care became more and more difficult to hold.

Thor looked down to his cup, empty again too soon. He caught the eyes of Fimafeng across the crowd, and raised his cup to indicate more.

“Another!” he called, and brought his arm down in one smooth, solid gesture, to smash the cup on the floor.

And stopped.

Thor looked at the cup again. He tipped it towards him, and caught his barest reflection in the glassy bottom. The cup was in fact a well-crafted metal stein. Most likely it would not break even if he dashed it to the ground.

Still, he set it gently on the table instead, remembering Earth.

Perhaps he should ask. Nicely.

Fimafeng approached with a freshly filled pitcher.

Thor tipped his head, and held out his cup to let him pour.

“Thank you,” he said when Fimafeng had done. Thor raised the cup to him before taking his first drink.

Fimafeng frowned, arched a curious eyebrow, and said nothing as he hurried to see to other guests.

Thor drank a moment in silence before he caught Loki’s eyes across the feast hall.

His brother looked aghast.

Then angered.

Thor blinked, and watched as Loki held out his own cup. Still half full, he smashed it on the floor. Deliberate.

“Another!” he snapped.

Eldir came hurrying.

Aegir thumped the table at last, and stood from his chair. His beard had been braided and decorated with seashells and pieces of gleaming abalone for the occasion. His robes were the same dark red as before, trimmed in black mane.

The music stopped long enough for him to speak.

“My friends! Guests! Brave warriors and stout men all!” Cheers responded. “This is a glorious day for us! On this day, we celebrate the end of a reign of tyranny!”

More cheers erupted. Fists and forks pounded upon the long tables.

“In honor of this celebration, my daughters have prepared a special presentation, the likes of which have never before been bestowed upon those outside of this keep. However! They would like to bestow it now upon our hero!”

Aegir clapped Thor heavily on the back.

“Thor Odinson, of Asgard! We honor and thank you for all you have done!”

Cheers rang and toasts filled the air. Thor laughed, though his gaze sought Loki again among the crowd. By rights he should have just as much recognition, as should the men of the crew. They had all been brave and stood in the face of the great beast together.

Thor remembered, frowning through his sluggish drink-mind.

… _only ever wanted to be your equal_ …

But Thor did not have the chance to speak before Aegir gestured, and the music began again.

His nine daughters poured from the hall’s entrance to fill the space cleared within. They moved in formation, gowns of pearlescent white decorated with green garlands. Their hair had also been braided, tied back from their faces.

Stepping into accord, they lifted their arms and began a dance in time with the music. Ribbons of blue trailed in the wake of their movements.

Their eyes shone bright.

Hefring led them, particularly striking in the fire’s orange glow.

Thor smiled, applauded their dance and clapped along with the unseen musicians as the other guests did. A few cheered and reached out to tug at ribbons as they passed. Now and then one of the young maidens would break from the dance and toss a flower from her decorative garland to the crowd.

A man caught one, and was immediately slapped by his wife.

All laughed.

Thor imagined this to be why Lord Aegir had never invited the Asgardians to his home. He had never brought his daughters to the feasts in Asgard, and Thor could think of many young nobles who would leap at the chance to make off with such fine young wives.

Fandral alone…

One of the crewmen drunker than most reached for Hefring as she danced near the long table. He managed to catch the hem of her dress. Hefring spun away, grabbed his arm and pulled him from his bench to the floor. He tumbled into a pile of spilled drink and food, upon which a set of hounds immediately fell.

Laughter and applause roared. Even Thor joined in laughing at the crewman’s lack of grace.

Then a blue ribbon settled about his neck, and Hefring was there. She leaned one hip upon the long table and lowered herself close to him.

Thor smiled, and did his best not to notice the generous cut of her dress.

“My lady.”

He bowed his head, and reached for her hand to kiss.

Her hands tightened on the ribbon instead. She pulled Thor up from his seat, enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

Thor heard her hum and giggle as his beard brushed her much softer skin.

Thor’s smile faded, and he looked to her, uncertain of the deep look there in her eyes.

His mouth parted but he could think of no words, except to repeat: “My lady…”

The world was bright and warm with firelight and drink, and suddenly too stifling. Hefring wound the ribbon around her hands and leaned in again, when the ribbon abruptly changed.

It darkened. Coiled. Turned into a hissing snake.

Hefring yelped and let it drop, retreating back from the table. Thor reacted only in time to grab the sudden snake from his neck and hurl it to the ground.

The blue ribbon fluttered gently down, a ribbon once more.

Loki’s hand touched his shoulder.

“Thor,” he said, in a voice like pouring wine. “We must speak.”

Hefring’s eyes flashed to him. A dangerous anger lay in their depths.

Loki returned only a smile.

Thor looked between them.

“I…Loki?” he began, and ended as Hefring turned and slid away.

He watched her go, quite confused.

Loki tugged at his shoulder.

“Thor.”

Thor stood, and turned away from the feast table.

“Loki.” He frowned. “What was—?”

“You should be more careful,” Loki hissed beneath the music’s lull.

“But I did nothing…?”

Loki scowled, and stepped closer to him. His hand touched the back of Thor’s neck.

“Where is Aegir looking?” he said.

Thor blinked, dumbly. He looked beyond Loki’s shoulder towards where their host sat across the hall. Aegir had moved from his usual place at the center of the long table to speak to some of his guests.

He had not noticed until then, but Aegir sat low in a new chair, posture horribly slumped. His chin bulged in one hand. All merriment and cheer had gone from his manner.

Instead, a most unpleasant scowl darkened his otherwise ruddy face.

His glare lay fixed firmly upon Thor.

“He is looking this way,” Thor said.

“Good,” answered Loki, and kissed him.

Thor froze, his eyes wide.

Feast and celebration continued around them. Thor remained vaguely aware of it, though all sounded suddenly very distant. Felt far beyond his reach. He knew not where his hands were or where he should look.

It was not a kiss as Hefring had kissed him. Loki had not aimed for his cheek.

No.

Loki’s mouth covered his own with a certainty and forcefulness, his hand at the back of Thor’s neck allowing no room to pull away. His closeness and urgency was not unlike that of the previous night, when they stood together in his chambers and he insisted they were being watched.

Loki’s other hand clenched into the front of Thor’s tunic. Thor felt his heart pounding beneath Loki’s fist.

Loki’s lips parted only a little and his tongue slipped against him, earning a muted grunt in return.

The ground lurched and Thor felt suddenly very unsteady on his feet.

It could have been the drink.

Loki ended it at last, though he put no more distance between them.

Only then did Thor remember how to breathe.

“Is he still looking?”

Thor swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

Loki lowered his hands and took Thor’s. He drew him after him, needing no glance to retreat them both to an unoccupied corner beyond the long tables.

“The girl fancies you,” he murmured as they went.

Thor still reeled. He had to strain to think.

“Hefring?”

“You should be more careful.”

“She is…” Thor struggled. “…a fine young maiden. She is brave to remain so unaffected by her encounter with the creature in the lake.”

“Indeed.”

Loki pushed him into the corner, and seized him again. This time both hands buried into his tunic to keep Thor in place, though Thor pushed against his arms to escape.

The kiss itself was swift, drawn on a sharp inhale, and Thor stilled himself against it.

His escape attempts felt feeble. Uncoordinated at best.

Thor wanted to wet his lips in the wake of the kiss, press away the lingering feeling of Loki’s touch there, but he didn’t dare. Not with Loki still close.

Loki wasn’t looking at him. His eyes remained turned sharply aside, narrowed, though he did not turn his head.

Though he pressed against him, Thor risked taking a breath.

“Loki…”

“Shh.”

“What are you doing?”

Loki’s eyes snapped back to him, sharp and green.

Thor had never noticed before just how green they were.

“You did see the look Aegir cast when that girl kissed you,” he growled.

Thor blinked once. His lack of expression spoke for him.

Loki dug his nails into Thor’s tunic. Hard enough to sting the skin beneath.

“The one thing Aegir covets more than this keep are his daughters,” Loki said, as though explaining to a very small child. “His look would have murdered you. If he feels he is justified, he’ll have us both killed.”

Thor laughed, breathless.

“Surely not!”

He made to push Loki away again, but his brother would not be moved.

“I mean her no dishonor. It is she who is open with her affections.”

“Fathers do not always see it that way.”

“But he’s shown us such hospitality…”

“We are in his keep. If we breach what he deems as proper in his own home, he may do with us as he pleases.”

Thor frowned. He could not laugh over the matter long, sobered by Loki’s grave look.

“Surely he would not kill us?” he said. “And risk war with Asgard?”

“If Odin takes issue, we are dead all the same.”

Loki leaned in to kiss him again. Their mouths met but this time Thor pried him off, hands braced against his shoulders.

“Why do you call father by name?” he demanded, shaking his head to clear it. “It sounds…”

“Cold?” Loki finished with a small smile. “Why, indeed.”

“I weary of these cryptic words, brother.”

“Forget I am your brother,” Loki whispered, with sudden fervor. “For as long as we are here, pretend to be infatuated with me.”

Thor all but recoiled.

“But we are brothers!”

Loki sneered.

“We can lead Aegir to believe his daughters are safe.” He withdrew, and Thor felt aware of the cold sweeping in to fill his absence.

“I would have him believe my word alone,” Thor grumbled.

He was not content with this. Not at all.

“And if he doesn’t?” Loki arched a dark and apathetic eyebrow. “You defeated a sea monster today, Thor. Do you think you could defeat the entire sea itself?”

Thor floundered. His cheeks felt hot. He looked from Loki toward Aegir but could not think well enough through his disorientation to know a better solution.

Perhaps when he had not had so much to drink.

“He’s coming,” Loki whispered. He moved in again. “Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Make it look convincing.”

“I will n—!”

Loki kissed him, and it lasted a very long time.

Perhaps not as long as Thor felt it did. He closed his eyes and shut them tight to bear it. His hands on Loki’s shoulders dug into his tunic in return, feeling the material strain and threads snap beneath his hold.

Loki did not kiss like any maiden Thor had yet known. Not even Jane Foster.

It was…violating. It was as though Loki’s kiss invaded him, demanded before it took. Thor was left feeling exposed, something stripped from him, that was not altogether pleasant.

Thor had never before thought a kiss to be as definitive as bedding someone.

Now, he was not so certain.

He had only just parted his lips to make the effort of reciprocation – and perhaps to breathe – when Aegir drew close enough to interrupt.

Loki broke from him with a gasp. He turned his face aside, out of breath, and lifted a hand to partially cover his mouth.

“Ah,” he said. “Lord Aegir.”

“Is all well, Odinsons?” Aegir asked, eying them both with an uncertain look. “Is the feast to your satisfaction?”

“Oh yes.” Loki answered smoothly, feigning at composing himself. “Quite.”

“You retreated so suddenly. I had worried something offended you.”

Loki laughed, and this time it was sweet. As soft as rain on water.

“Oh no, dear host. I think I’ve only had a mouthful of drink more than I should. My manners slipped away from me.”

Thor stared at him, unhidden in his stupor. How Loki could so easily lie to the man who had taken them into his home…

“I see.”

Aegir looked them over a moment longer, then nodded.

“Is there anything I can provide for you?”

“I think it is about time to retire.” Loki held out his hand, fingers curled toward Thor. “For both of us. You will see me to my chambers, won’t you, brother?”

Thor said nothing. He took Loki’s hand with a reluctance, eyes lowered to it.

“Goodnight, dear host.” Loki waved a parting gesture to Aegir as he led the way out.

The celebration went on quite merrily behind them, oblivious to their departure.

Loki clung to Thor’s arm as they went. They were quick to outdistance the noise and the lights.

They passed by Eldir in the corridor, heading quickly the other way.

Loki chose that moment to whisper close to Thor’s ear.

“I will let you have me in every way tonight.”

Behind them, Eldir stumbled. But managed to keep hold of his plate.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _For a long time there was only Ymir and the cow. Then Ymir fell into a deep sleep. While he slept, a male and female Jotun came to life in the warmth of his left armpit…”_

_“That’s disgusting,” said Thor._

_“…and a troll with six heads sprouted from his feet.”_

_“Even worse!”_

_“These monstrous creatures grew quickly and had offspring of their own. They were all big and rough, and Ymir was the biggest and wildest of them all.”_

_“How did the Jotuns have offspring?” Thor rolled over and settled on his stomach. He moved the stalk of grass he chewed from one side of his mouth to the other._

_“With each other, I imagine,” said Loki._

_“But they were siblings!” Thor wrinkled his expression in distaste. “One can’t have offspring with their siblings.”_

_“They weren’t technically siblings,” Loki shrugged. “They weren’t born as you and I were. They came from the sweat of an armpit.”_

_Thor shook his head, unable to fathom the idea._

_“I’ll bet they smelled awful.”_

_“Probably._ ”

***

Thor woke late the next morning in Loki’s bed.

Sunlight streamed through the window cut into the stone wall, as did the sound and glimpse of drifting seabirds.

Thor groaned, and covered his head.

He did not ache as much as he could have after a night of feasting. He had been rather restrained in the amount of drink he consumed.

But he ached enough.

Shielding his eyes from the light, Thor slid his hand across the bedclothes, feeling for Loki to see if he still slept.

Perhaps he could conjure a pitcher of fresh water. Thor was parched.

His arm reached its full length, and felt nothing.

The bed was empty.

Thor pushed himself up, jolting to greater awareness. The room was also empty, quiet save for the sounds of the coast.

“Loki?” he called. His voice came broken and dry. Thor swallowed hard against it and stumbled out of bed, uncoordinated feet nearly tangling in the blankets.

“Loki?”

More urgent. He wore no tunic, but it was a fact Thor noticed little in the face of rising panic.

“Loki!”

“I’m here,” came Loki’s answer at last. He emerged from the adjacent chamber wherein lay the bath. His clothes were fresh and his hair damp.

He arched an imperious eyebrow Thor’s way and looked him over, disdainful of what he saw.

“Is something wrong?”

Thor stood dumbly with his hands out to either side, certain he looked a mess. He did not overly care as his heart slowed to a regular pace.

“I thought…you had…”

“Gone?” Loki finished. He smiled at some private amusement. “I had. I did not feel the desire to drag your drunken carcass into the bath.”

Thor frowned. He cast his gaze over the interior of the room, straining to remember the previous night.

He remembered retreating with Loki to his chambers.

Beyond that…

Thor looked down at himself.

He wore no clothing at all.

“Where is my tunic?”

Loki smirked.

“You tore it off in the corridor before we made it inside,” he answered, quite easily. “You simply could not wait to bed me.”

Thor felt his face blanche several shades. His stomach grew tight.

He worried he might collapse.

Loki laughed at him, and brushed his shoulder as he swept by.

“You truly will believe anything.”

He gestured to a fresh set of clothes folded beside the corner water basin.

“You dropped into bed the moment we arrived. Your garments you tossed off at some point after you complained of being too warm. Aegir’s servants collected them this morning and brought replacements.”

“That jest was in ill taste,” Thor mumbled, but took the clothes when Loki handed them over.

Loki tilted up his chin.

“Yet you believed it.”

He went on, scarcely a hitch of breath between his words. He moved about the room to dry his hair and put his appearance in order.

“Lord Aegir also came calling. He inquired as to your well-being when he saw you still asleep.”

A dressing mirror stood along one wall of the room. Loki positioned himself before it, smirking at Thor through the reflection.

“I told him you were exhausted.”

Thor sat down on the bed, looking to the clothes. Dark grays and blues. He did not react this time to Loki’s tease. His thoughts drifted elsewhere: both ahead, and to the previous night. All that had happened.

Loki pouted a little when his jab went unnoticed.

“He is also happy to inform us that preparations for a journey to Asgard are being made even now. He will have a crew take us there as soon as they are ready.”

Thor glanced up.

“How is it he can travel between the realms without the Bifrost?”

Loki shrugged.

“There are ways.”

“He truly means to send us home?”

“I suspect he wants us gone as much as you do, now that his sea creature problem is solved.”

Loki would not meet his eyes even through the mirror. He pretended to attend to his hair, trimming and smoothing to make it as pristine as possible. As it always was.

For a long while, Thor was quiet.

When he spoke again, it remained quiet.

“Will you come home?”

Loki’s grooming slowed, but did not stop.

“You already know my answer to that,” he breathed.

Thor thought to stand and go to him, but such would require dressing himself. Just then, he could not summon the interest.

He remained seated and stared at his borrowed attire without truly seeing it.

“Why?”

“We’ve had this conversation, Thor.”

“You never gave me an answer.”

“It is not enough that I do not want to?”

“No.”

Thor abandoned propriety and stood anyway. He set the clothing aside and closed the distance between them.

Loki turned – sudden, as though startled – and shrunk only a little before Thor grabbed his arm to keep him from retreating further.

“I would have you tell me why,” Thor said, firm. “I do not believe it is because of what has happened, as you would say. You and I both transgressed. I have had my exile, and if this is to be yours then why would father not welcome us both back if we return willingly, once we have proven ourselves?”

Loki held himself that he could look at Thor down the bridge of his nose. His eyes flitted briefly to Thor’s hand on his arm, but spoke nothing of it.

They both knew he did not like to be grabbed.

“And what have I done to prove myself?” His voice came cold with a serpentine venom Thor only rarely heard. “I need no redemptive trial. I have no regret for what I’ve done.”

“I do not believe that.”

Loki’s expression twisted, incensed that he would be doubted.

“If you do not regret, why do you run?”

Loki’s eyes shifted. He looked aside, to Thor’s hand, out the window of the chamber. Anywhere but back at Thor’s gaze when it refused to leave him. Thor saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed. The flex of muscles in his jaw.

Small things. Simple things. Meaningless to anyone else.

But Thor knew his brother. Even if he did not know him as deeply as he thought, after Bifrost and Destroyer and Jotunheim, he refused to believe Loki remained anyone but Loki.

And it astonished him, even as he watched.

He never thought to be the one to see Loki sweat.

“Let us go back together,” he said, soothing. “We will face father. We will explain to him why you did what you did. He will hear us.” He gave Loki’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Even should the situation with Jotunheim be dire, who better to remedy it than you? You, who may solve anything.”

They had undergone and endured so many trials before, and always together. Even if Loki ever truly had been the cause, he proved also the cure.

What could be so different now?

“Let go of me, Thor,” Loki whispered.

“What?”

Loki would not look at him. His face remained stiffly to one side.

“Let go of me,” he repeated.

Thor held on.

“No.”

“Thor.”

“I will not let you go.”

“Thor…”

“Brother…”

“ _Let me go!_ ”

A hearty rap on the door struck down their rising voices. Loki tore himself free with a violent jerk. He tugged on his tunic to straighten it.

“Enter,” he snapped, leaving Thor little time to scramble back to the bed and grab something to cover himself.

Lord Aegir entered, having to duck through the chamber room doorway.

“Ah, my most distinguished guests!” he greeted, arms wide. Gone were all traces of his hostility from the previous night. “Forgive the intrusion! I couldn’t help but notice you were awake.”

“My brother can be very loud when he chooses,” said Loki. Also gone was his viciousness of only a moment ago. “I hope we did not disturb you.”

“Not at all! Not at all. I did, however, wish to invite you down to breakfast before the servants clear the tables. It is late, but the food is still warm.”

“That sounds splendid.”

“Excellent! Then perhaps I can interest you in a tour of the keep after? It seems every spare moment we’ve had since you arrived has been taken up by dark or battling monsters.”

Aegir laughed full-bellied, and Loki joined him with a lighter smile.

“We would love to.”

“Good! Good. We shall take a stroll along the beach today as well. I will show you my ships. I think you’ll be particularly pleased with the one I’ve chosen for you.”

He turned to gesture towards the open door. Loki went out swiftly, casting Thor a look over his shoulder before he ducked from sight.

The sharpness of it did not echo in his tone.

“Do not take too long, Thor.”

Thor stood where he was, unable to move much with only a blanket held around his waist.

He waited until they had gone, voices retreating down the corridor, and dressed in silence.

***

The keep was quiet. Its emptiness felt strange in the wake of the previous night’s celebration.

Though to look it over in the light of day, one would not know any feast had ever taken place.

Not a dirty plate or overturned drink or loose garland remained in the dining hall. No sleeping guests or overfed hounds lined the corridors. Aegir’s servants had cleaned every surface spotless.

Lord Aegir walked them through it.

The keep had a stable, Thor had not realized. Though the horses within were not at all kin to the horses they kept in Asgard. These creatures were slender, and finned, with sleek muscles and gills that seemed just as suited for diving through water as galloping on land.

The keep also possessed a small library. That seemed to put Loki in a better mood.

The rest of the keep comprised of the same stone walls and towers and ramparts looking out over the ocean. Aegir showed them his favorite tapestries and treasures collected from long ages of being lord in his domain. The tapestries depicted ancient battles with sea creatures and land rising from the depths of the water, as Aegir believed the whole of the realm had. The treasures were polished gold artifacts recovered from lost voyages and mounted displays of fish, the likes of which Thor could not name.

“A shame you did not bring back a tooth or scale from Lyngbakr,” Aegir chortled as they went. “It would go well in my trophy hall.”

“I am sorry nothing could be recovered,” said Thor. “The beast sank quickly.”

“A shame. I suppose the story is trophy enough, my boy. Still, I can only imagine a great number of components could have been harvested from such a beast’s corpse. Who knows what sort of power and magic they contained!”

“Nothing of benefit,” Loki mumbled.

After the keep Aegir walked with them down to the surrounding beach.

It was a long, rocky coast. It curved in a wide arc in either direction and out of sight, lined with similar cliffs. They did not have to go far to see Aegir’s fleet of ships moored in a sheltered cove.

The ships were grand, and many, and as they watched Eldir and Fimafeng worked tirelessly to load one of them with supplies for an impending journey.

Hefring ran to meet them at the water’s edge. She ran still barefoot, and her hair and dress were damp, as though she’d been swimming. She pulled her father aside to speak with him, her whispers excited.

Thor took the opportunity to break company, and wandered apart.

The day was overcast. The sea colored a dark, briny gray beneath the lighter gray of the clouds. A cool wind drove the waves inland, their rhythmic crash against the rocks and cliffs sounding the realm’s steady heartbeat. Seabirds cried at each other overhead, flitting over the keep’s ramparts or hovering upon the air, watching them.

It was all very gray and colorless. The sun hid its face.

Yet Thor felt a peacefulness in his heart.

Perhaps it was the sea. The reminder that a being even such as himself could feel small standing before its size beyond sight.

The cool wind felt good against his skin. The way it fluttered looser parts of his tunic against him.

Thor closed his eyes, and tipped back his head. He spread his arms just a little to better feel the wind wrap and curl itself around him, intimate as a lover, yet fleeting and curious as those lighted beings he had encountered upon the lake.

He breathed in deep, letting the smell of the sea remind him of the coast near home.

When he looked aside, he caught Loki watching him again.

He did not recognize the look on his brother’s face. There remained that distance, yet it seemed not that drawn of apathy. His eyes were soft and his lips lightly parted, exhaling a breath of which he did not appear entirely aware.

Thor never knew Loki to be one to stand with his mouth open.

Again, the look vanished the moment Loki knew he had been seen.

Thor grounded himself. He had not heard Loki approach. Now that they were in speaking distance and Aegir distracted, he strained to think of something to say to his brother that would not spark another argument.

“Let us go swimming,” he blurted.

Loki lifted his brow.

“There is nothing I would enjoy less than emerging myself in fish-scented seawater,” he said.

“Then let us take out a boat and fish for sport.”

“What makes you think I wish to dirty my hands with that?”

“What of riding? We could ask Lord Aegir for the use of his horses, and—”

Loki stepped close, and kissed him. The brush of their mouths together did not incite the violent reaction in Thor as it had the first time it happened. Perhaps because it was not so sudden.

Loki’s kiss was softer than Thor remembered from the previous night.

Thor…tolerated it.

“What was that for?” he murmured, when Loki drew away enough for him to speak.

“For show,” he answered easily. His lips curled in a half smile. “Aegir and Hefring were watching.”

“So you insist on maintaining this charade?”

“I do.”

Loki’s hands came to rest on Thor’s arms. They pressed only a little, as though fearful of hindering the wind’s enjoyment of his tunic.

“Though your performance could use more enthusiasm.”

“My performance is fine.”

“Is it now?” Loki’s smile turned into a smirk.

Thor fell quiet as heat bloomed in his cheeks.

Loki laughed a little, and kissed him again.

For a moment, Thor retained his stoicism. Then his hands rose with hesitant uncertainty to take hold of Loki in return. He gripped his forearms just enough to feel the flex of firm muscle beneath, and closed his eyes, letting his lips part.

He even gathered his courage and leaned into Loki’s body, pushing him ever so slightly backward.

For show.

Loki made a small hum, pleased.

Thor hoped he was satisfied with this farce, for all the nauseating unease he felt taking hold of his stomach.

It was not that Thor found kissing his brother so repulsive.

It was…

Only…

Uncertainty. That lingering doubt.

For the whole matter.

But if this behavior somehow found a way to bridge the crevice that had opened between them, then Thor would humor him. He would show Loki his trust.

Nor was Loki absolutely vile at it…

They were still embraced when Aegir approached. He stood to one side, hands folded behind his back. Thor did not know just how long he stood there before noisily clearing his throat.

Loki peeled away from the kiss with no great hurry. He blinked, eyes half lidded, a lazy smile lingering on his features as he glanced aside.

“Oh. Lord Aegir. We did not see you there.”

His finger traced the lining of Thor’s tunic. He made no move to break apart.

Thor kept his arms around him, thinking it best.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Aegir said, with a sincere nod of his head. “But Hefring just informed me of some rather distressing news.”

“What has happened?” Thor asked. He had to swallow the tightness in his throat to hear his voice sound clear.

“An inbound ship of mine has just returned with two crewmen they found floating on the debris of another.” Aegir tilted up his great beard. “It seems the poor souls happened upon a nest of Lyngbakr’s brood. They seem quite agitated by the death of their sire.”

Loki immediately shot a look to Thor. Thor returned the glance, making no attempt to hide his thoughts, already well in place.

Loki scowled. He knew that look.

They hurried with Aegir back to the keep.


	7. Chapter 7

“This is beyond the task to which you agreed.”

Oars dipped into water as the small craft navigated its way through the cave. Surrounded by rock walls and out of the wind, the sea was still, though now and again the half-hearted slap of a wave made a sound upon the hull.

Light had long receded behind them. They saw now only by a torch Thor held where he stood on the prow of the longboat.

Loki stood beside him. Their eyes swept the darkness.

Somewhere, water dripped.

“This is what we must do,” Thor murmured.

Loki maintained his scowl.

“I think you only wish to fight.”

“These creatures threaten the lives of good men.”

Thor took his eyes from their path long enough to glance aside to him. It would be a lie to say he did not enjoy a good fight, but this would be no idle sparring match.

“Is it not you who insists on maintaining favor with our host?”

Loki did not answer.

At points the cave grew so narrow the crewmen pulled in their oars and used them to push along the glistening rock. When Thor looked down, he could see the silt-lain bottom of the water passage. Specks of mineral glinted in the torch light, and sightless white fish swam lazily out of their path.

“This cave is small. How could any creatures larger than ourselves dwell here?”

“The water here is fed from the ocean,” answered Loki. Even keeping their voices soft, their whispers echoed among the ceiling of stalactites, of which they had to now and then bow to avoid. “There could be larger passages beneath the surface.”

They continued, the faint tap of oars upon rock marking their way. The cave was but one in a series of many along the far coast of Aegir’s domain. It was nearby upon the open waves the latest series of attacks on his ships had occurred. After a thorough search and listening to the stories of survivors, Lord Aegir and Loki agreed these caves were the most likely place for smaller spawn of Lyngbakr to take shelter.

The air was cool and damp, and very, very still.

The smell of fish increased the deeper they went.

“They are close,” said Thor.

The cave opened into a cavern so vast the torch he held could reach no other wall nor the ceiling overhead.

Something slithered in the dark.

A crewman gasped.

Loki moved quickly, grabbing onto the torch over where Thor’s hand held it aloft. A pulse of magic flared the fire to sudden, blazing life, enough to illuminate the mass of coils and fins surrounding them on all sides.

The vile beasts hissed and shrunk away from the heat, though it also drew their milky white eyes.

In the instant before their boat was upended, Thor saw the creatures were everywhere. They had even wedged themselves among barnacles in the ceiling.

The boat lurched from beneath. Thor felt the weightless suspension of nothing before he landed in the water.

The torch went out.

Men shouted and screamed.

Something like raw muscle covered in scales darted away from him as he reached for Mjolnir, even before Thor had righted himself and his head broke the surface.

All was dark, but not still. Thor could feel the churning in the water of crewmen desperate to find rocks to ground themselves. Fouler things swam underneath.

He thought to take to the air. He could hurl himself skyward with the hammer’s power and break through the cavern, shower light and rock down upon the beasts that would hide within. But to do so could bring the rest of the cavern down as well. Thor could not see where the crew had landed, or Loki. 

He did not think he could summon lightning for much the same reason.

Thor drew the breath to call out, rally the crew to him, when a coil wrapped itself tight around his neck and dragged him down.

Foul seawater filled his mouth and his cry choked. He grabbed at the coil with one hand and thrust Mjolnir against the body of the creature with the other, his eyes clenched tight as there was no point in seeing. He did not have to see to feel the monster’s body attempt to crush him.

Mjolnir pulsed, a reverberation of thunder through the water that dislodged a few loose rocks from the cavern overhead. They plunged down and Thor broke free from his attacker, dead or shaken.

“Thor!”

He heard his name as found air, and Loki was beside him.

A ghostly light hovered in the dark, directed by gestures of Loki’s hands.

Men’s screams and the hissing of monsters filled the rest of the cavern.

“Loki!” Thor shouted. He waved Mjolnir in an arc. “Get the men away!”

“Now is not the time to give me orders!” Loki spun in the water as a head all but rose beneath them, plunging a dagger in to the monster’s soft skull.

“Do it!”

Thor brought his hammer to bear on another. The sharp crack of Mjolnir’s strike lit up the cavern in a brilliant burst of light. Sparks leaped and vanished, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

“Bring the cavern down!” Loki shouted, gouging another sea creature’s eye. “It will kill them all!”

“And us with it!”

“Trust me!”

Thor had not the chance to question. A fang-traced head as large as he was rose from the water to pull him into its mouth. Thor caught the beast’s fangs in one hand and braced his feet against its lower jaw. He held its crushing strength at bay until it dove under, and took him with it.

Water filled his every sense. The beast rammed him into rock and silty bottom to dislodge him. When Thor let go, it was only to clamp the reach of his arm and legs down around the beast’s mouth, holding its long jaws closed as it thrashed and spouted water.

Mjolnir thundered. Her sparks flew. Thor slew it, but not before the beast slammed his back into a rock formation far below the surface. Limestone shattered, made the water cloudy, and tumbled down to trap them both in its fall.

Thor shoved rocks aside, but the beast’s dead weight lay atop him as well. He coughed wordless bubbles of frustration, and placed Mjolnir again to strike.

Loki caught his wrist, suspended in the water with his light and a grace Thor did not possess. With only a touch he splintered the boulder that held Thor trapped, and pulled him free.

They kicked back to the surface, gasping for air.

“I told you to get the men to safety!” Thor barked, spitting water.

Loki pushed wet hair from his face, and glared, in spite of the sea creatures writhing around them.

“I did,” he snapped. “I came back for you!”

Gathering sound overhead drew their attention. Their eyes rose together.

Thor noted that the sound of the screaming crewmen had indeed stopped – for good or for ill.

In the light cast by Loki’s magic, they could see the sea creatures gathering, focusing on the only two intruders left to attack.

They were surrounded.

Loki eased closer to Thor where he tread carefully in the water. His hand reached to touch Thor’s wrist, slowly, as though not to break the tension in the monsters’ stance.

Thor did not take his eyes from them.

“On my word,” Loki whispered.

Thor held his breath.

The creatures attacked as one. Arching high, they dove down from above, teeth and long tongues and coils uncaring for what they trampled, if it meant claiming their next meal.

Loki waited until they were almost upon them.

“Now!” he shouted, and Thor threw Mjolnir high.

She burst with brilliant light. Not that of the sky, but of fire. Thor felt the magic coursing through his wrist where Loki touched him, the heat searing the surface of the water and threatening it to boil. He had to squint his eyes to see beyond the flames as they lit up the faces of the beasts, burned those that were too close.

But Mjolnir did not burn. She conducted the power like the finest of instruments.

Thor spun her once and grabbed Loki about his waist. They lifted from the water, pulled hurtling towards the cavern ceiling which Mjolnir pierced like the softest of flesh.

Still reeling from the fire, the beasts could do little as sunlight flooded into their dark abode. Great chunks of rock collapsed, burying them beneath the cave’s outer shell.

Thor and Loki hovered in the air overhead as they laughed, near-delirious with exuberance. They threw bolts of lightning and blasts of magic to make certain those that did not get caught in the downfall would not leave the cave alive.

The larger vessel that had born their small boat hence lay out to sea a safe distance away. They landed on the prow to the sound of much cheering and praise, and Thor saw what remained of the crew had made it there.

How Loki managed, he would ask later.

Thor laughed and smiled in triumph. He stepped down from the railing and clasped hands with those who had sailed into the cavern with them. Immediately they bombarded their questions.

How had they escaped?

Were the monsters dead?

Thor laughed and assured them all would be told at the feast that night. No doubt Lord Aegir was already preparing it.

Thor looked back to see Loki lingering near the railing. He paid little attention to the crew as they prepped the ship to take them back to the keep. Nor did he show much care for the praise and congratulations.

His gaze lingered upon the water. Watching for more beasts, no doubt.

If Thor had been more keen, he would have thought to do the same.

The crewmen pulled in their oars and readied the sail to catch the evening wind. It filled the cloth and swelled it tight, pushing them back in the direction of the keep.

Thor hung Mjolnir on his belt and moved to stand beside Loki, their eyes turned out in mutual thoughtfulness.

For a moment, they were quiet.

Then Thor reached out and grabbed hold of Loki’s backside.

He squeezed, certain they were positioned so the whole of the crew could see.

He could feel Loki tense, immediate, though to his credit he restrained something as indignant as a squawk.

Still, he shot Thor a glare that could have withered flowers.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, low enough the crew could not hear.

Thor only grinned.

“I am being infatuated with you.”

Loki rolled his eyes, although – notably – he did not smack Thor’s hand away. He pulled free instead under the pretense of shrugging off his wet coat to hang somewhere to dry.

Thor watched him go, still grinning, before following to do the same.

Thor heard one of the crewmen mutter as he passed:

“So that’s how it is in Asgard.”

***

Another triumphant return to Aegir’s keep.

Another grand feast in his hall that night.

Braziers were lit and the wine flowed in a torrent.

Music played. Aegir’s daughters danced.

Again Thor found himself and Loki seated in places of honor beside Lord Aegir at his table, the feast’s bounty piled so high Thor could barely see over it.

Many of the crewmen recounted their own versions of what had taken place in the battle inside the cave. They exemplified their own heroics and argued with each other over just how many beasts they were able to slay before mighty Thor felled them all in one blow.

Thor smiled and laughed and listened as the number of monsters increased with every mouthful of drink.

It was from the crew’s retelling Thor learned of what Loki had done while he had been trapped with one of the monsters beneath the water. They described Loki’s lights in the darkness, how they multiplied suddenly to match every man for his head. Then Loki was there, his hands about their shoulders, lifting them from the water. They described a brief sensation of weightlessness, a dark mist, and suddenly they were back in the vessel with their comrades. No knowledge of how they had gotten there.

A few of them whispered magic. Some in fear. Some in reverence.

Thor looked aside across Aegir’s girth.

Loki sat calmly reclined in his seat, nursing a drink. He smiled enough to be polite and said nothing, only nodding to return the looks the crew gave.

He made sure Thor was watching before he threw his drink at the feet of passing Fimafeng, demanding another.

Thor tried not to smile.

Aegir latched an arm around Thor’s neck and shoulder and squeezed him tight, giving him a shake. His breath assaulted Thor with the smell of fish and wine.

“So much you’ve done for me, my boy! I almost hate to be losing you!”

“Losing?” Thor looked to him without pulling away, braced only so he could still breathe.

“Yes. You’ll be glad to hear! My servants have made all the necessary preparations. My ship will be ready to take you back to Asgard at dawn.”

Thor’s heart lifted. He could not help a look towards Loki once more.

He frowned, and straightened as Aegir released him.

Loki’s seat was empty.

His turned his attention to Hefring as she approached the table with a full pitcher to refill his cup. Thor could not manage a word of thanks before Loki appeared again, falling into his lap from nowhere.

Arms looped around his neck and Loki nuzzled against his beard, smiling with a drunken sway.

Thor knew it to be feigned.

In all their life he had never seen Loki drunk.

“You fought so bravely today, my love!” he purred.

“What?” Thor made as though to push him away. Then he caught Hefring’s eyes upon them, dangerously intent.

He remembered.

“Oh. Yes. And you.” He patted the back of Loki’s neck before remembering to add: “My dearest.”

They did not dissuade Hefring from reaching the table. She still poured her drink, eyes the shade of storm clouds darting between her concentration on the cup and where Loki’s hands roved upon him.

“Shall we retire soon, sweet light of my life?”

Thor did not quite groan, though he felt a distinct rolling in his stomach.

Surely Loki could put on a better display than this?

“I fear you’ve had too much to drink,” he grumbled. Then when Loki looked at him pointedly: “My heart.”

Thor was not in the mood for his games. The reminder of home had done a good deal to sober him even in the wake of victory.

Perhaps sensing as much, Loki caught his face and kissed him. He did not release until Hefring turned and slunk away.

Thor did not smile when Loki met his eyes.

“If you truly meant to discourage her, you would not be so mocking,” he said.

Loki showed not the slightest shame.

“It is not she I’m trying to convince.”

He pushed a hand back through his hair, smoothing it. His eyes flickered beyond Thor’s shoulder to laughing Aegir, who paid them little to no attention as he clunked steins with another guest.

“We have only to endure one more night.”

Thor sighed.

“Then let us be done with it,” he grumbled.

Loki tilted his face, and remained in his lap. He looked to him with a pout.

“Am I truly so repulsive, brother?”

Thor frowned, unable to comprehend what bearing that had on…anything.

“That is not—” he began, before Aegir pulled him back with a bellow.

“Thor! Tell us again how you slew the beast beneath the water!”

Thor took his eyes from Loki only a moment. But when he looked back, he had gone.

He set his jaw, and returned to the feast and its guests.

“It was not so different from slaying Lyngbakr,” he said, and reached for more drink.

“Is your brother truly a sorcerer?”

Thor paused with the cup only just touching his lips. He set it down.

“It is true,” he said.

“That explains his cowardice,” one of the crewmen laughed.

Thor’s look hardened.

“Have care how you speak.”

The crewmen may have been brave to not flee before the battle with Lyngbakr, but their wits were not about them, clouded by overconfidence and drink.

“But he did nothing!” They continued to laugh. “I remember how he stood with us on the ship while you fought the monster. He had not even the decency to thank you for what you did when—!”

In an instant Thor had reached over the table. He pulled the particularly vocal crewman from his bench by the front of his tunic. The man’s feet did not touch the ground while Thor held him easily in one fist, the other dangerously close to striking.

“Do not dishonor my brother’s name with your drunken words!” Thor ground into his face. “He has done more than you know! Did you not see the runes on the ship? How he carried you to safety?”

The crewman kicked, struggled against Thor’s grip. Thor would not release him.

Around them, the feast had gone quiet.

“—a-a-pologies, my lord!” The crewman stuttered, unhidden fear in his wretched shaking. “I saw no runes…!”

Thor’s brow furrowed. The fury behind his eyes put his thunderstorms to shame.

“My boy.” Aegir’s soothing words reached him, though he made no move to interfere.

It was a reluctant effort, but Thor put the crewman down. He released him with a shove and turned from the table, bowing to his host.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, and left.

***

Thor thought to search for Loki in his chambers. Finding him not there, he turned next to the library.

He found him perched upon a rolling ladder mounted against the high bookshelves, a thin volume open in one hand.

The library was dark, save for the lamp by which he read.

And quiet.

Thor very nearly felt a reluctance to disturb him. It was the first time he had seen Loki look at ease since they arrived.

He approached on quiet steps, pressing his hands together when he knew not what else to do with them.

For awhile, he stood, thinking carefully of how to phrase what he meant to say.

“You’re going to remind me Lord Aegir’s ship will be ready to leave come morning,” Loki said for him. He did not look up as he turned a page in what he read.

Thor stared.

“And then you’re going to ask me if I insist on continuing this nonsense of not returning home.”

Thor swallowed hard, and listened.

Loki’s eyes flickered, briefly catching the light.

“The answer is yes, I am.”

“Why?”

“I have given you my reasons.” Loki turned a page again, fingers ghosting light across the paper with a respectful touch. Almost reverent. “Which of them would you like me to repeat?”

“You have given me no reason at all,” said Thor. “You have provided excuses. Distractions. You evade me when I ask.”

He moved to stand at the foot of the ladder.

“If you will not tell me why, then I will stay until you do.”

Loki laughed at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I will not return without you.” Thor reached out his hand to touch the ladder’s railing, close to Loki’s boot. “Home will not be home without my brother.”

Loki’s eyes darted to him. The scathing look struck Thor as familiar. He felt he knew the words that rose in Loki’s throat, though he did not give them voice.

 _I’m not your brother. I never was_.

“Why did you say we were not brothers?” Thor released them in Loki’s stead, meeting his challenge. “That we never were?”

Loki’s eyes flashed dangerously, but briefly. He tossed the notion away with a gesture of one hand, eyes half falling closed as he turned his head.

Evading once more.

“My best laid plans were coming to naught before me. I was angry.” He spoke as though it had been nothing. That it was nothing. “I would have said anything.”

“You’re lying.”

Thor did not flinch from the glare Loki shot. He gripped the ladder’s edge tight as though it would keep Loki from rolling away, should he decide to flee.

That had ever been his favorite tactic, was it not? To distract. To disarm with a smile and carefully chosen words. Then to run away, where he could fight more easily from a distance.

It was not Loki’s way to speak careless words in anger.

As Thor remembered them, they had not been careless at all.

“I weary of this evasiveness.”

He had thought perhaps to come here and tell Loki of how the crewmen thought of him. The things they had said, that Loki may defend himself and his honor.

He most likely already knew.

“Confide in me, Loki.” His tone was nearly a plead. “The way you always have.”

“Confide?” Loki’s disdain for the word dripped black in its sound. He tilted up his chin, that he may look down his nose at Thor once again.

“What would you have me say? Would you know my every waking thought? My opinion of the pastries at breakfast? Shall I tell you every time I think a particularly pleasant breeze comes through the window?”

Thor would not let him divert their attention yet again. He took a step onto the ladder and grabbed Loki’s arm: the first to bring them to a more even standing, the second to make sure Loki did not cringe away, as Thor somehow knew he would.

The ladder creaked under his weight, but held.

“I have forgiven you everything,” he said, emphatic though he kept his voice low. “I am willing to forgive more.”

“More? My dear Thor.” Loki’s hand touched his face, drew a line with a fingertip along his jaw. “You have no idea what else I’ve done.”

“Tell me.”

Loki tilted his head, almost coy.

“Did it ever occur to you once in the time you spent on Earth to wonder just how the Jotuns made it into Asgard? You never did get your answer from their king.”

Thor frowned as he strove to think back. No, he had not thought much upon it. There had always seemed something more pressing on Midgard.

“Or how they got in a second time, just as you returned?”

Thor played back the events in his mind. He remembered his power being restored. Returning to Asgard. Finding Heimdall already downed by the frost giants’ presence, and more dead in the room where their father slept.

Loki laughed at him.

“You truly are pitiable. Heimdall deduced it rather quickly.”

“You?” Thor whispered.

Loki grinned. A wide, feral look that cut the air.

Thor could not readily believe it.

“Why?”

“First? Because I could.” Rather than cower beneath Thor’s imposing bulk, Loki leaned in. Met his challenge with a closeness, that they barely touched. “I’ve told you once. You were not ready to be king. I proved it to both you and Odin by showing what you would do in the event of an attack.”

Thor breathed deep, the better to control his temper thrashing so wildly to be let loose.

“And then?” he prompted through a tight jaw.

Loki laughed again, sneering.

“And then? Because I couldn’t not. I thought of a way to lure their king somewhere alone. Once he dropped his guard, I killed him myself.”

Thor tried so hard to think ahead of his brother, to untangle the mess of Loki’s mind that he might see if this was yet another lie. Another trick. Another part of some elaborate plot.

It was impossible.

“You promised him our father’s death?”

“Of course. It was bait he could not resist.”

“But you never intended to go through with it…”

There Loki’s glare darkened. The lamp on a table beside them flickered, nearly went out.

“You truly think I would?”

“You were willing to destroy an entire race.”

“And I would. Again.”

Loki pressed further. Their mouths all but touched when he spoke.

“For you, I would do anything.”

Thor felt his temper weaken, along with the fierce strain of his insides. The weight of knowledge that he was, in the end, responsible for what Loki had done – what he had almost done – sank heavy in his stomach.

That Loki felt no remorse seared it into place.

“The destruction of Jotunheim was not what I wanted.”

“You wanted it before you were exiled.”

“I want you now to speak to me.”

“But we are speaking.”

“Why do you maintain this distance between us?”

“Distance?” Loki licked his lips. In doing so, licked Thor’s. “But I’m right here.”

“Enough!”

Thor pushed him hard enough to feel Loki’s back hit the rungs of the ladder. The grunt it earned was satisfying, but did nothing for the heat in his gut.

Thinking around Loki’s words grew increasingly difficult.

Loki’s hands reached out, curled tight into the front of Thor’s tunic.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered.

“I want no part of your games.” Thor growled, paying no heed to the sound of approaching steps even as they registered on the edge of his senses.

Loki pulled him into a kiss anyway.

Thor growled against it, refusing to participate. He held no care any longer for what Lord Aegir thought of them. He would not grant Loki his distraction.

Then inspiration struck.

Thor seized upon the opportunity to beat Loki at his own game.

Thor kissed him back suddenly, fiercely. His mouth parted and he invaded with tongue and teeth, biting at the edge of Loki’s lips. He used his hold on Loki’s shoulders to crush him harder into the ladder’s steps.

Let Loki be the one to call a halt, once he realized he was no longer in control.

But Loki called nothing.

Rather, he made a sound. A low, responsive, wholly _involuntary_ moan. It sent a stab of heat through Thor’s lower body and echoed a softer groan within him.

Then Loki’s hands were in his hair and his leg around him as mouth and body parted for more.

In the instant before they broke apart, Thor could think of no reason not to give it.

They broke with a gasp, desperate for breath, and stared.

The weighted knowledge of their trespass lay unspoken in the dark.

Lord Aegir’s approaching steps broke the silence.

“Forgive the intrusion,” came his voice, respectfully quiet for the library’s sanctity. He stood near the entrance, his massive silhouette taking up much of the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.

“No, Lord Aegir,” Loki gasped. He pushed back his hair to smooth it, what little good it did. His hands settled on Thor’s chest but could not push him away. Thor would not be moved. “It’s…quite alright.”

Aegir stepped just inside. The glow of the lamp barely reached him.

He bowed his head.

“I would apologize for my guest’s rudeness. He spoke most ill of you.”

“No need.” Loki squirmed. He attempted to get free, though he did not move long. Feeling Thor too much against him while they were compromised in such a way did no service to either of them.

Thor felt it, too.

“They were only words.”

Thor said nothing. He kept his back towards the library’s entrance, still fighting to catch his breath.

Aegir chuckled a little. Thor felt heat rush up his cheeks.

“I must say, the men have been making wages as to whether or not you will return to challenge your naysayer to a duel.”

“No,” Loki rasped, now low and irritable. “You may apologize to them on my behalf for ruining their sport.”

“Ah. More’s the pity. Well, then, I shall leave the two of you be.”

“Please…”

His steps faded into the keep.

Thor reached for Loki again as quiet restored.

“Loki,” he whispered.

“No.” Loki turned his face away. Thor’s mouth found his throat instead, the pale spread of it bare and defenseless.

Loki quivered. He shut his eyes under the fall of warm breath.

“Thor, stop this now…”

It had been Thor’s intent. Loki spoke the words he wanted to hear. An end to this ridiculous farce he called into being.

Only now, Thor did not want to stop. Warmth laced his blood, made it hurtle hot and heedless to the far reaches of his body. His head felt light, and the rest of him…

The rest of him wanted Loki.

It was a desire he did not question.

“Thor!”

Loki gasped sudden, sharp, as Thor’s mouth found the sensitive hollow at the base of his throat. Nails dug deep into his skin.

It was enough to make Thor relent.

He lifted his eyes to his brother, his own a hopeful look of yearning, wanting Loki to see.

But what Thor saw there gave him reason to halt. He had never before seen such a thing captured in the flawless lines of Loki’s features.

Fear.

His face remained turned away, but he trembled, his grip stiff on the front of Thor’s tunic where it barely held.

Thor reached for him, in body as much as in heart, as cold swept down his back.

What could Loki possibly be afraid of?

Loki, who feared nothing.

It echoed a deeper dread in Thor’s heart that chilled him.

“Loki,” he whispered, and reached to smooth back his hair.

Loki closed his eyes. He steeled himself as though the touch pained him, his breath a staggering whimper. Thor jerked his hand back immediately, lest it burn him.

“You should go,” Loki rasped, breathless. “Now.”

“Tomorrow,” Thor insisted. “And you with me.”

Loki laughed again. Bitter. Pained.

“You would have Heimdall see us like this?”

“He has already seen.”

Loki looked to him. Though he smiled, it was a pitying expression bordered with envy. As though Loki wished he could possess Thor’s naiveté.

“No,” he said on a soft breath. “He hasn’t.”

“What?”

“Why do you think I came here, Thor? When I could have concealed myself anywhere. These walls…” He lifted his eyes, admiring – worshipping – the shelves of books that surrounded them. “This place. The fog. Aegir covets this place so. He keeps it well hidden. Even Heimdall could not find his way here without Aegir’s permission.”

“It matters not,” said Thor, shaking his head. He would not be moved on this. “I would have you back either way.”

“You would have me?”

Loki looked to him, and Thor knew his meaning.

He lost his breath in that look, but he nodded, knowing it to be true.

Loki looked as though he might weep, or strike him.

Thor would have taken either over the sad shake of his head. The way his chin dropped to his chest.

“I cannot go back,” he said. “Neither of us can ever go back to the way we were.”

Tentative, Thor put a hand to the back of his head. Light, at first. When Loki did not flinch, he rested his palm over soft dark hair.

“Why?”

Loki kept his eyes down.

“Because you have changed. We both have.”

Thor squeezed the back of his neck, as he did on that day long ago.

_Never doubt that I love you._

“Then let us build something new. Something even more grand than before.”

Loki looked up to him, and for a moment, Thor thought he saw hope. It sparked there in a sea of sobering doubt.

If Thor believe hard enough, he was convinced, then Loki could, too.

And it pained him.

“No,” Loki said. He pushed Thor away at last. “It is far too late for that.”

***

Thor walked Loki back to his chambers.

It was difficult, prying himself free from their tangle on the ladder. Cold swept in where Loki’s body had warmed against him, thin and empty and all the more noticeable for it.

They walked in silence.

They passed the light and noise of the feast still going late into the night. Lord Aegir’s laughter rose above the music, carrying onto the air outside the keep and over the waves.

It all sounded very distant and apart from them.

Thor could think of so many questions, though he gave none of them voice by the time they reached Loki’s door. Questions paled in comparison to the urge to push Loki up against it, hold him there and claim his mouth again, that Thor may bridge that gap between them and finally – _finally_ – draw Loki out of his silence.

He stood by, watching as Loki undid the latch, and stepped inside.

When he moved to follow, Loki put a hand on his chest.

“Not tonight,” he whispered.

Thor looked after him, but Loki would not meet his eyes.

“You have no need to fear me running away,” he said. “There would be no reason. Tomorrow you will leave on Aegir’s ship and that will be the end of it.”

“But Loki—”

Thor reached for Loki’s hand, even managed to clasp it briefly, before Loki slipped away.

The quietest sound in all creation was that of letting go.

“Goodnight, Thor.”

Loki shut the door in his face. Thor heard its latch close with metallic finality, and he could easily imagine Loki lining the interior with protective wards, should he try to force his way in.

Thor sighed.

He turned, and made for his own chambers. He stripped of his armor and set Mjolnir down at the bedside. Then he sagged onto the blankets.

It did not occur to him until then he had not slept in his own appointed bed for the time they had been at Aegir’s keep.

Thor had not bothered with the lamp. He turned his head aside to look out the window.

His and Loki’s chambers faced the same direction in the tower, looking out over the sea. The angle was not so different. The sea was black, but the three moons rose over it, tinting sky and water with their colors.

Perhaps Loki looked upon it now as well?

Thor felt a stirring within him at the memory of his brother. Of what had happened in the library. He closed his eyes, and let the pleasant warmth come upon him as he had felt it then: the sound of Loki’s unforeseen moan, the gentle press as his body writhed against him to push away – or to pull him closer, Thor had not been sure – and the look in his eyes when they’d parted.

What had he seen there?

Want. A moment’s slip of that precious control Loki clung to.

Had it been only lust?

What was this Thor felt in return?

Thor did not wish to debase anything he felt pertaining to Loki. He would not think it mere lust.

But Loki was his brother.

His _brother_.

And yet, he was Loki.

Beyond their friends in Asgard, beyond even their parents, Loki remained the single most prominent point of light in Thor’s memories. Loki had always been there, for as far back as he could recall. They had shared joys and sorrows, grown and learned together, played, fought, knew one another closer than it felt right to call mere siblings.

Loki was constant.

Loki was everything.

Perhaps they had ever been, if anything, too close.

There could be no lack of bias when it came to his brother. No impartial opinion or neutral decision. Thor loved him.

Indeed, loved him with an impending misery, if this was to be their parting.

Thor lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his lips, unable to fully simulate the feeling of Loki’s against him. His own hand was rough, big and calloused. Loki’s lips had felt small, quick, confident. Softer than he’d imagined they would be.

If he willed it, Thor could almost conjure the feel of him behind the black of closed eyelids.

“Loki…”

Thor’s other hand reached to take hold of himself, slipping beneath loosened material at the level of his waist. The heat of his own body shocked him, though not so much as the level of painful arousal he found in the grip of his hand.

He imagined it to be a softer grip. One infinitely more cunning. Long fingers trailing across him, somehow knowing exactly where, how to touch, without Thor ever having to speak.

Though Thor remained far from silent.

In the light of day it may be labeled wrong, but alone now and in the dark Thor found it easy to imagine Loki leaning over him. The light of the moons would fall on his bare skin. He would smile.

Oh, Thor knew just the smile.

That lightly crooked grin, nearing on sly, that promised mischief with a child’s sort of wicked delight.

There would be long arms and an arched back. Their mouths would hover close, only barely apart, as Loki worked and played with Thor’s body to his content.

Thor would lie back and bear it – perhaps for hours – until he could stand no more of Loki’s teasing.

It would be nothing to turn his brother over, to lay him along his back or belly, bite a shoulderblade or kiss a path down to his thighs to return a taste of Loki’s own treatment.

Thor could imagine the way he would laugh. The way he would taunt him even then, until Thor silenced him with a delve into places Loki had been so certain he would not go. His cries would be beautiful; that precious control he craved slipped from his hands by Thor’s doing, leaving him open in unguarded splendor.

And Loki would have no choice but to whimper his name.

“ _Thor…_ ”

Thor pushed his hips up off the bed as his world and all of existence collapsed in on itself in one bright, shuddering burst.

He opened his eyes again towards the window, and looked out.

His world had been remade.

A wondrous new world. The scope of its potential unknown, reaching well beyond the cosmos. And achingly unwhole.

Thor found his sleep before he too long mourned the approach of dawn.


	8. Chapter 8

Thor had a dream.

In it, he stood again upon the broken edge of the Bifrost.

Wind tugged at his cloak from all sides. It pulled at his hair.

He held onto Loki over the edge. Not by Gungnir, but by his hand.

He could feel his grip slipping.

“Loki!” he called, but the wind stole his voice.

Loki would not look at him.

His eyes were turned down, fixed on the gaping maw of the portal beneath them.

Thor grabbed onto him with both hands and pulled with all his might, but the path of the ruined Bifrost was strong. It kept pulling Loki away from him into that interminable darkness, making him fade by degrees.

Thor could feel him vanishing.

“Loki, no!”

He would not let him fall.

A voice, soft and feminine, whispered close to Thor’s ear.

“It’s alright,” it soothed.

It sounded like his mother.

“I’m losing him!” Thor shouted into the wind. He could see Loki growing fainter. His heart sped and panic made his throat sore as he tried so desperately to hold on.

“It’s alright,” soothed the voice again. This time Thor felt a touch on his shoulder.

Warm.

“Let him go, Thor.”

“I will not!” Thor screamed it, defiant to the furthest reaches of all the Nine Realms.

“You cannot hold him.”

“I will save him!”

“You already have.”

Then Thor looked to the portal below, and saw things he did not understand.

He saw the barren landscape of a spread of asteroids, dark even with the light of a distant star falling upon them. The deepest blue glow highlighted carved steps, leading to a sculpted throne: the only sign of habitation.

Something large moved in the shadows between the rocks.

Then he saw a city – was it Earth? – beset upon as though being devoured by a plague of insects. That same blue fire rained upon the streets and its people.

He saw himself, battling the tide.

Then the dark, twisted visage of their leader. His enemy.

…was it Loki?

Thor looked down. Loki had almost gone. Thor’s fingers all but passed through his image.

Loki made no attempt to hold onto him in return.

At last, he lifted his head.

What Thor saw there was not his brother.

A gaunt face with a rictus smile, eyes hollow and discolored. Their inner glow was that bright, unfeeling blue. Not green as they should have been. The rest of him looked thin. Hungry.

The thing opened its teeth and a scream poured forth. Black ichor and the rage of eons.

Cold fear struck Thor to his heart.

He let go, and watched the thing that was not Loki fall.

***

Aegir’s ship lay ready to depart as dawn warmed the morning sky.

Thor woke in a sweat. The dream’s vivid images lingered in the forefront of his thoughts even as he bathed to wash them away.

He dressed in his armor, and met Lord Aegir and Loki for the morning meal.

He strove to find his brother’s eyes as Aegir talked on of great honors and deeds, of how Thor would always be remembered and welcomed in his home. Several crewmen and their families had sent tokens of appreciation and thanks from their small villages that lined the coast. Aegir had already seen to loading them aboard the ship to journey home with them.

Try as he might, Loki would not see him.

Thor feared that Loki knew of the shameful urge he had given in to in the darkness of his chambers.

Aegir’s speeches did not allow much room for words in between.

Had he the chance, Thor wondered if he might speak to Loki of his dream. Perhaps he would know what it meant. But the chance did not arrive. They had no time alone that morning amid the long sweep of attentive servants, well-wishing guests, and grateful daughters.

Lord Aegir remained ever the generous host, though his gaze seemed almost too knowing, in the times Thor caught it.

He walked with him to where the ship lay at anchor.

Thor could not help looking back.

He had to go back. Not only was it his duty, it was his responsibility. Never before had Thor felt it so soberly. And he wanted to go back. He wanted to comfort his father and mother, and see the wrongs he had done Asgard made right again.

He also wanted his brother.

Briefly Thor considered knocking Loki under the chin and taking him back whether he agreed to it or not.

No.

No, that would not be the way.

Loki walked with him out to the ship, at least, to see him off.

He did not set foot on board, lingering on the rocky beach with his arms folded, as Aegir walked Thor to the deck.

There were no goodbyes. No parting embraces.

Thor very nearly preferred it that way. At least, as far as Loki was concerned.

Aegir still felt the need to crush him into one last bone-breaking hug before setting Thor down on the deck.

“Thank you, my boy,” he said, deep with sincerity, “for all you have done. Give my regards to your father.”

While close, Aegir lowered his voice, sounding beside Thor’s ear.

“Though you are welcome to stay, if that is where your heart truly lies.”

Thor looked to him strangely. Aegir nodded, his eyes darting in subtle motion towards the beach.

Thor followed his indication to where Loki stood, and sighed.

“I should think if your Hefring showed any more interest in me,” he murmured, “you would have me beheaded.”

“Oh, much worse than that, my boy.” Aegir clapped him heartily on the back. “Much worse. But I don’t think there’s any need to fear, is there?”

Thor returned his smile with uncertainty. It died quickly.

“No. There is not.”

Thor absently touched his heart, where Loki’s hand had pressed.

“There never has been.”

“Then we’ll see you off.”

Aegir climbed back down to the beach. The crew appointed to the ship pulled in the gangplank and pushed out their oars. With great unified heaves they freed the ship of its mooring and took to the waves.

Thor looked out over the railing as the beach grew distant.

Even then he could see Loki standing beside Aegir on the rocks. Two solid silhouettes, similarly still.

Loki’s arms crossed over his chest as though to hold himself.

Thor thought to lift his hand to wave goodbye, but his arm remained heavy. The idea of such a gesture felt too final. Too absolute. If he did not say farewell, then perhaps he could pretend – imagine – that this was not the end.

There was still hope…

Lingering doubt hovered dark in the midst of that hope, clinging close to his heart. It whispered, not unlike the way Loki would, just over his shoulder. The way he would slip his words into Thor’s thoughts until he could not tell them from his own.

What good would he be to Asgard, it said, if his heart was here?

What good was all of existence if it was not whole?

Thor let out the breath he had not known he’d been holding, and let his hand drop to Mjolnir.

He had only taken one step towards the railing when a cry drew his attention to the ship’s prow.

Something churned in the water before them.

“Lyngbakr!” shouted a crewman, a heartbeat before two suctioned arms the size of Yggdrasil’s branches lifted from the water and crashed onto the ship.

Water spray showered the deck. Wooden splinters flew. Crewmen scattered as the ship lurched to one side.

Thor braced against the slanting deck, catching himself on the main mast. He glared at the creature as it rose from the water, heard its hiss and felt the spray again as its mouth appeared: an unhinged jaw of teeth among the foam.

It was the same beast. There could be no doubt.

Thor could see the black, twisted stretch of flesh where its eye had been, before he’d gouged it to nothing with Mjolnir’s power and one of Loki’s daggers.

Thor glared, meeting the turn of the monster’s remaining milky white eye.

He picked up Mjolnir, and flew.

***

He remembered falling, and being pulled down. He remembered reaching for his brother, calling his name, and the gripping fear that he might lose him.

Again.

When he was so close.

Then there was only the agony of drowning.

***

Winds howled.

Rain stung and bit into their skin, driven by hurricane gales.

The sea roared and dashed itself against the side of the ship in maddened attempts to overturn it. Ropes strained and snapped beneath the onslaught, but Thor stood strong against the mast, daring the maelstrom with an unflinching glare.

“Thor!” Loki shouted. He ducked his head beneath the crest of a wave that breached the side. He threw back his wet hair, and looked to Thor’s defiant image through the wind and bursts of lightning.

“We must turn back!”

“Remain at your posts!” Thor bellowed. “So long as I am master here, we sail ever onward!”

Thunder answered him, shaking the ship to its core.

Loki grabbed on to a taut rope as another wave rolled over them. He pulled himself up to where Thor stood, braced against the stinging rain.

“Thor!” he shouted, and reached for his arm. “We cannot make it!”

“I heed not the words of cowards!” Thor said, his grin bright in the dark. Blue eyes flashed with the lightning. “We shall triumph over this storm, and many more like it!”

“Look at your crew!” Loki flung his hand out towards the ship, where more than a dozen good Asgardians clung for their lives against the onslaught. Their strength alone kept them from being swept over the side a hundred times already. “My words are not that of a coward! Turn back now!”

“The Pillars of Utgard are just ahead, brother!”

“And we will be dashed upon the rocks!”

Another unrolling of thunder. Lightning cast the whole of the vessel in brilliant white before plunging it again into the darkness of the next wave.

“Thor!” Loki screamed. “This is madness!”

Thor laughed, and on the next burst of lightning lifted Mjolnir towards the sky. The brilliant white light struck the hammer as though drawn to it, alighting its runes with deep, reverberant power.

“Cease your fears, warriors of Asgard!” he bellowed to the heedless men. “Even death can be glorious in the service of Odinson!”

Loki held tight to his rope, and stared at Thor as though he did not know him. He did not recognize the rush-maddened stranger who stood in his brother’s place.

Only after his exile, only after Earth, could Thor look back and know what he could not have seen then.

It was one of many times Loki knew he was not yet ready to lead.

***

Thor woke in a bed.

His bed. In Aegir’s keep.

Not home.

Pain lanced through his eyes when he tried to open them. Noise assaulted his skull.

There was no part of him that did not ache.

A hand pushed him down when he made the attempt to roll over, sparing most of the agony that splintered through his chest and down his side.

“Stay,” said a voice. Loki’s voice. “Your ribs are broken.”

Thor lay back and groaned while the pain subsided.

“Three, by my count,” he mumbled.

Loki did not laugh.

Thor felt hands upon him. A damp cloth and the tightening of wound dressings. He heard sounds like distant metallic scrapes against stone and wood being hewn. Each strike and call of a seabird above the noise chafed fresh against his senses. He furrowed his brow to brace against it.

Loki cupped his head and helped him enough to touch a drink to his lips.

His voice was soft.

“Here.”

Thor drank, coughing only a little, and felt the tingling sensation within as his ribs began to mend.

On the last gulp, his head grew more clear.

He lay at ease and squinted his eyes open enough to see his brother. Loki sat on a stool at his bedside near a basin of water. He dipped a cloth into it, wrung out the excess, and set back to the task of wiping down Thor’s forehead and neck, careful to avoid the patchwork of bandages upon him.

It made Thor think of when they had first arrived in the realm, when he had done much the same for Loki.

Some time passed in quiet. Loki did not meet his eyes, focused down on his task.

Thor turned his head towards the window when he felt he could do so without igniting his headache anew.

“What is that noise?”

“Repairs,” said Loki. “Lyngbakr destroyed the outer wall and a portion of the keep.”

Thor frowned. He watched as Loki drew a healing stone from a cloth wrap and crushed it into a cup of water.

Imbued crystals glistened in the light.

He pushed it towards him.

“Do you not remember?”

“Not so distinctly.” Thor winced and pushed himself up to sit – carefully, and with Loki’s help – and took the drink. He touched a hand to his head.

That had been bandaged, too.

“What happened?”

“You were reckless,” said Loki. “Again.”

“Was it slain?”

Loki draped the cloth he held over the side of the basin. He sat back, folding his hands in his lap.

“No,” he said, with no uncertain severity. “Though we did wound it before it retreated.”

“And the crew of the ship?”

“Dead.”

Anger and despair took sour hold in Thor’s heart. He turned his face away, possessing no strength to stop the burn of frustrated tears.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over two days.” Loki spoke quietly, his voice holding little inflection. For as much as Thor’s emotions wrecked his expression, Loki remained impassive.

“How could the beast still _live_?” Thor turned in the bed as though to rise, pushed back the blankets.

“I don’t know,” Loki said.

“We watched it sink!”

Thor looked to his hands. A bandage encircled one wrist. He tore at it, angrily ripping the cloth free, exposing newly healed flesh.

Loki sighed and let him.

“It would seem Lyngbakr is as formidable as Lord Aegir claimed.”

Thor growled, grumbled, tossed the bandage aside as he started on another.

“Then my word to him is unfulfilled.”

There, Loki’s expression darkened.

“That would be your first concern.”

Thor looked to him, staying his temper. He noted at last that Loki looked tired. More than battle-weary. If he had suffered any wounds fighting the monster – and Thor did not doubt Loki had fought alongside him – they were not visible.

But care hung heavy over his features.

“What would you have me do?” Thor said, lowering his voice. “You would truly see me sail away and never return?”

“I would,” said Loki, without hesitation.

“And dishonor myself by breaking my word to our host?”

No. There were more reasons beyond mere honor. Better reasons to fight. Thor had learned that on Earth.

“If Lyngbakr is still out there, it is still a threat to innocent lives.”

“And what of your life?” Loki snapped. He met Thor’s look with a glare, as sharp as his daggers. “Have you considered that?”

Thor stared at him, his face speaking all.

He had not.

“I failed to slay the beast once,” he said, slow with the weight of resolve. “I must try again.”

Loki scowled. He turned his face to one side, saying nothing as Thor rose to stand. Slowly, body sore and stiff.

“I should speak to Lord Aegir.”

Loki made a small gesture with his hand. Simple, but enough to throw Thor back down onto the bed with no gentle force, and hold him there.

Thor yelped.

“Loki!”

“I already spoke to Lord Aegir,” Loki said, apathetic. “I told him you need your rest in order to heal. I would inform him when you were well enough to do battle again.”

Thor clenched his fists and strained against the invisible bonds. Runes flashed bright green and gold across his wrists, and would not be broken.

Another reminder of his time on Earth: Thor did not enjoy being restrained.

“I feel well enough!” he growled.

Loki stood from his seat and crossed the room, sparing Thor no attention. He poured himself a drink from a pitcher of wine and stood at the window, his gaze cast out to what construction efforts were being carried on outside.

When further struggling produced no results, Thor decided escape did not lie in brute strength.

He relented, lying compliant, and stared at the ceiling.

“Then you do agree I should go after the monster,” he said.

“No,” Loki answered. “I anticipated you would set your mind to it.”

“It is the right thing to do.”

“I don’t care.”

Thor looked to him as best he could.

Loki nursed his drink, his gaze leveled out the window. His eyes followed the pattern of gulls in the sky. Pink and gold colors of sunset highlighted upon his skin, growing deeper, more sincere as the sun sank lower and lower toward the horizon.

The sound of work on the keep filled the quiet.

Thor watched him.

“You are so upset to see me stay?” he ventured at last.

Loki murmured: “I would that you had never come here.”

“But I am here.”

“You should not have followed me off that bridge.”

“How could I not?” Thor closed his fists. “You are my brother.”

Loki turned to look at him at last. Thor saw something behind his eyes. Pain, and joy, and loathing and loving. So many things only Loki could combine into his own unique and complex self.

“Is that all?” he said on the softest of breaths.

Thor felt the bonds loosen. The runes vanished.

He sat up, carefully, looking after him as Loki turned to the window once more.

Thor did not speak, but rose.

“Loki,” he breathed.

Loki tightened his cold shoulder.

Thor closed the distance between them slowly, and reached out. He touched him softly on the side of his neck.

Loki closed his eyes and tilted his head. He pressed his cheek into Thor’s palm with a whimper, as though it pained him.

Thor put his arms around him. His chin settled to rest on his shoulder.

He felt the tension in Loki’s posture ease.

“May we speak of what happened in the library?” Thor murmured.

“You will regardless,” said Loki.

“Was it…” Thor faltered to think of the proper word. He did not wish to insult Loki and incite his rage, but…

“False?”

Thor swallowed hard, and did not answer.

Loki chuckled.

“It flatters me you think I am that skilled a performer.”

“Then it was not?”

Loki turned to face him. His eyes were soft in the dying light. His hand came to rest on Thor’s chest, firm over the beat of his heart.

“What would you do,” he said, lightly pressing his fingers, “if I said it was not?”

Thor could not stop the elation that lifted him. He fought to reign in such hope, to go against his nature and keep it from showing too much upon his features, as he had his anger.

He was certain he failed miserably.

“I would…” he began, and fought to think of words. They proved elusive when all he could fathom was the urge to pull Loki close and kiss him.

He made do with covering Loki’s hand on his chest with his own. Linking their fingers.

“Do you remember when we sailed to Utgard?”

Loki blinked. He raised an eyebrow, needful of a quiet moment to recall the memory of that dreadful venture.

“The voyage where you nearly killed us all?” he said, rather flat. “Yes.”

Thor laughed a little, and ducked his head in shame.

“I was a fool then.”

“Yes. You were.”

“I was still a boy, seeking glory and battle. I did not think of those around me.”

“It was a long time ago.” Loki’s brow lightly furrowed. “Why discuss it now?”

Thor squeezed his hand.

“Because you were beside me, even then. No matter what madness I chased across realms and adventures, you have always been there.”

“I was on that ship the same as you. I couldn’t have escaped if I wished it.” Softer, Loki looked to their clasped hands. “And someone had to look after you. You would have blundered into a dragon’s mouth and been eaten before you realized it.”

“You have always thought of me. Even to the day I was banished…”

“Thor.”

Thor lifted their hands. He kissed Loki’s, brushed his thumb across the same spot without losing his eyes.

“There are many things I learned in my exile, brother,” he said. “I was too stupid to see them before. But now…I realize…”

Loki lifted his brow. He looked expectant.

Thor swallowed the tightness in his throat, stumbling over his words.

“You have always been there. The thought of you no longer…”

Loki continued to look expectant.

Thor ducked his gaze.

“I know what you would say. You would ask me of Jane Foster. The truth is, brother, that I am fond of her. Her will and certainty, her defiance in the face of those who would stop her…” In those ways, in fact, she reminded him very much of Loki.

Thor thought of her, and remembered how she had kissed him – she, not he – and how his thoughts had become a tangled mess of confusion and excitement.

Could he have felt any other way?

“I am fond of her. I do wish to see her again. But…she is not you.”

His look returned to Loki, tentative. Braced for rejection as he knew he could only expect. And he would not blame Loki for doing so.

“There is no one like you.”

Loki said nothing. He only looked to him, that distant and measured gaze.

“I know you would say I was gone to Earth for such a short time and came back so changed. I know I am…unworthy…in this, and still in many other things. I have changed. We both have. But we can only ever be ourselves, and…”

Thor clasped Loki’s hand tight where he still held it.

“I am ever, and always shall be, your brother.”

Loki drew a breath as though to speak. Thor did not allow it. Though he felt he had spoken too much already.

“But if you say what has happened between us is not false, then…I would be more.”

Loki stared at him.

Thor shifted.

“If you would allow it.”

Loki continued to stare.

Thor could not bear the knot his stomach had wound itself into.

“Loki?”

He could stand it no longer. He made a sound, as though to speak more and cutting himself short knowing the uselessness of it, and cupped Loki’s face to kiss him.

This time, there was no hesitation. No recalcitrance on Thor’s part to deny what he only thought was a game. He touched Loki just beneath his cheek, their hands still clasped between them, and closed his eyes to savor what few precious moments there would be capturing Loki’s mouth before Loki inevitably pushed him away.

The push did not come.

Instead Loki’s hand rose to thread into his hair, and he kissed him back with such fervor there could be no room for misunderstanding.

Thor did not wait.

He grasped Loki about his waist and lifted him, turned, braced him against the stone lining of the window. Loki held onto him and grasped his cheeks and whimpered as their mouths crushed together with near-painful force. Clothing parted and came loose as they could reach it in short, hurried bursts.

“Not here,” Loki whispered, breath lost.

He urged Thor toward the bed.

Loki passed a hand over the window as they parted from it. A shimmer of magic like glass, and the sounds from without fell silent.

Thor came to rest on his back. Loki insisted. He lay his head on the pillows. His eyes lifted with unhidden awe as Loki settled astride him, careful to keep his weight from jostling too roughly.

The ghost of a sound whispered through the air as Loki shrugged away his tunic.

Thor’s breath left him.

Ever had Thor been the one described as Asgard’s golden prince, the image of valor and strength as he donned his armor and battled his enemies. But Loki…

Loki was _beautiful_.

There was a control in him, a consciousness in every gesture he made. It was as though he thought to be poised and composed in every moment, at every angle.

Except in those times he slumped unconscious over Thor’s shoulder, but Thor did not think too long on that.

He could only ever see what was in front of him.

Thor’s hands were drawn in wonder. As though there had not been countless summers in which he’d seen his brother shrug off clothing with him in favor a swim. He touched him now, fingers light upon his skin, and wondered how there could have never been a time when he didn’t feel the need to touch those hard, firm lines of Loki’s body. To trace the pattern of his ribs and the dip of the arched curve down his back. Not at all soft like a woman’s.

Loki must have seen his appreciation.

He smiled.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against him.

The kiss was gentle. Almost chaste.

“You should rest,” he whispered, already loosening the front of Thor’s pants. “Let me.”

Thor meant to protest, but then Loki’s clever mouth was upon his neck, and all words were lost.

He peeled away Thor’s wound dressings slowly. One at a time. Loki kissed the newly healed skin beneath as it was revealed, freshly tender and sensitive. His touch left deep red marks where he pressed, firm enough to hear Thor gasp.

Thor felt the prickle of magic raise gooseflesh across his skin in the wake of Loki’s caress, sharp like static.

The sun sank without them. The night welcomed them in.

Loki kissed and caressed his way to the front of Thor’s pants. Parting him there, Loki took him into his mouth, with such comfort and ease Thor could only wonder – distantly, through the white-washed spread of pleasure that became his thoughts – how Loki could not have done this before.

Perhaps he had.

Who knew what illusions Loki conjured in dark hours in the privacy of his own chambers.

Thor’s hand found his hair. It gripped and relaxed in time with the thorough bob of Loki’s head. He pushed his hips up against him in countermeasure, sparing no thought to halt the low, guttural grounds each new slide of Loki’s lips over him drew forth.

Only when Loki broke away, and kissed him, did he catch those sounds in the sweet trap that was his mouth.

Thor did not realize he trembled until he held onto him.

“Look at me, Thor.”

Loki cradled Thor’s face in his hands. He leaned over him in the dark, voice as soft as the moonlight fading in through the window.

“Look at me. Think only of me.”

“Yes,” Thor whispered, all the speech he could manage beyond prayers of Loki’s name. “Yes…”

His world was Loki. Every sound, every sight, every scent and taste and touch, was Loki.

Bodies tangled in the dark as Loki kissed him, pushed Thor’s hands into the blankets and held him there.

Thor closed his eyes and let himself succumb.

Loki’s face hovered close to his own, their breath coming in short, uncertain gasps. He took Thor in hand and lowered himself onto him. Slow, softly yielding.

Then there was nothing more left between them.

Loki’s fingertips left barely-there trails across Thor’s chest, sense and feel guiding him as his eyes closed, head tipped back, ever so in control until he rode Thor to release.

It was a moment like dying, when everything stilled, sharpened; when senses became overly aware, and Thor looked upon this new world he’d found himself enthralled to with wonder renewed.

But Loki was not done.

Thor looked to him, sundered into speechlessness, as Loki withdrew. He smiled that knowing smile, turned, and settled on his hands and knees; presented himself like a feline in heat.

“Please, brother,” he whispered, voice hovering on a breath. “Again…”

Thor complied. He could not think do to otherwise.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Thor did not know how long they spent that way, how many times they found that precipice together and pushed over into ardor’s oblivion. He knew only the feel of Loki above him, beneath him, of his arms locked tight around his shaking frame as he held him up from the bed.

Held him, and refused to let him go.

When they did finally come to rest he could do nothing but lie, wait for his blood to cool, and know he would never be satisfied with anything else.

Loki settled against his chest. He drifted to sleep almost immediately, one arm around him. His face buried in the crook of it as though a child coveting a favorite plaything.

Thor brushed Loki’s sweat-dampened hair from his face.

When he next looked down, his heart was gone.

And in the morning, so was Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sailing to Utgard scene taken from "Tales of Asgard: Maelstrom" in Marvel Spectacular - The Mighty Thor, Vol. 1, No. 6.


	9. Chapter 9

A sickening twist of fear replaced Thor’s lethargy of contentment. Fear that Loki had deceived him after all.

Fear that Loki had run away again.

Thor vaulted from the bed and was still tying his belt when he all but trampled over Hefring in the corridor.

She looked startled to see him, and blinked her wide-set eyes.

“Loki,” he breathed, hearing his own voice frantic. “Where is he?”

She tilted her head with her customary inquisitive look. Her eyes narrowed, and she said nothing.

Thor gave up with an inner lurch of despair and turned away, intent on finding Loki himself.

“He set out early this morning,” came her voice suddenly. It was the soft sound of a wave receding over sand. “He requested you not be disturbed.”

Thor turned back to her, astonishment in his eyes that she would finally speak to him.

“Where?” he whispered, hoarse.

“He took a boat to the mist-hidden rocks,” she said, wary of the tension in his posture. “He said he meant to save you.”

A cold chill swept through Thor’s blood. It made his breath falter, his hands feel weak.

“Hefring,” he said, before the urge gripped him too much to flee. “I am grateful for what you’ve done. I shall forever be your ally, but your affection…” It pained him to speak it, but he looked to her with sincerity. “It is better suited elsewhere.”

To his surprise, she smiled, and tossed one hand. The sound of her laugh came like rainfall upon a river.

“I could never have you,” she said, with almost childish simplicity. “Your heart is spoken for.”

Thor did not respond, but watched her as she swept away, humming merrily to herself.

He emerged into the morning sunlight upon the ramparts.

Looking out, he could see the damage Lyngbakr had wrought upon the keep when it last showed itself. A great portion of the outer wall lay in collapsed rubble. Eldir and Fimafeng and other surviving crewmen worked steadily even then to gather up fallen stones and replace splintered wood.

He did not see Lord Aegir.

Thor lifted Mjolnir, and swung her high. She carried him out over the water as the growing light of morning rose at his back.

***

The pillars of rock that marked Lyngbakr’s lair stood gray and still. They lay shrouded with the same fog as concealed them before.

The ocean was sharp, choppy by comparison, as though driven by the wind before a storm.

Thor could scarcely pick out a small craft in the mist as he arrived. It had been moored at the base of a gathering of rocks – formed tightly enough together as to be called a cliff – near a gentle enough ascent leading to its top.

Loki stood there, facing the fog. Alone.

Already the writhing tentacles of the sea monster were climbing the rockface, reaching to feel what prey the somehow knew might be grasped along the edge.

Loki stood all too easily within their reach.

“Loki!” Thor bellowed, and turned Mjolnir to point down.

He saw his brother’s face flash brightly to him as he flew. It had twisted into a grimace, irritation and outrage no doubt that Thor had followed him there.

Thor wondered how Loki could have expected otherwise.

Loki shouted something. It might have been Thor’s name. Thor could not hear it over the wind rushing against his ears and the roar of the monster as it felt his approach.

If it was a warning, Thor did not heed it.

He hurled himself toward the creature’s center of rising arms, and did not stop even when a mouth ringed with dagger teeth rose from the water to swallow him.

Being eaten was not a pleasant experience.

Thor shut his eyes, doubting he could see inside such a foul thing even if he had dared open them. He felt first the hard impact of sea water. Then came the rolling flex of internal muscles working around him, the sting and bite of digestive acids.

Thor shut his mouth also against the urge to roar as he swung Mjolnir into the creature’s soft insides.

If there were any bones to be shattered, he could not find them.

But the lightning forever found him.

Thunder roared as Mjolnir pulsed, and a great section of the beast burst outward. Its shriek filled the sky and it partially collapsed, coils still writhing as Thor hurled himself out through the gaping wound.

He landed in the water, less than gracefully, and tossed wet hair from his face as two arms reached down to catch hold of him.

Loki hauled him into the small boat. They fell together with the same lack of elegance, thumping into the damp floorboards.

Thor landed on top of him, and grinned as he braced himself on his palms.

“All is well,” he beamed, smile bright. Dripping from hair and eyelashes. “I’m here.”

Loki’s scowl could have wilted flowers. But he had no reply as his eyes lifted over Thor’s shoulder.

A shadow fell across them both.

Lyngbakr was again wounded, but not dead.

“Behind me!” Loki shouted, and waited no time before shoving Thor off of him.

He moved into a crouch, braced low as the boat rocked, kicked by increasingly tumultuous waves. With a gesture of his hand Loki drew something as though out of the air itself.

Thor only barely recognized the Casket of Ancient Winters before its icy fire unleashed.

The blast struck hard into the creature, turning water instantly to ice. Screaming wind and billowing cold overtook the monster like a disease. Lyngbakr lashed and shattered great chunks of the rapidly growing ice walls, but the power that built them poured without end.

For a moment, all Thor could do was stare. Then inspiration seized him from his brother’s courage and he took Mjolnir into hand again.

This time he soared into the biting cold wind and felt the water freeze in his beard as he struck. Mjolnir smashed against the hardened outer layer of the beast’s otherwise soft body.

With no more ability to resist, Lyngbakr’s flesh shattered.

Thor flung himself headlong against it, laughing and bearing his teeth as between them he and Loki beat the creature back to its depths.

It died in slow, roiling gurgles, disappearing beneath the waves until the water had frozen too thick for it to move. The sea around them became a plain of jagged ice, crunching beneath Thor’s boots when he landed.

All lay quiet. The sea was still.

The great beast was dead.

Thor laughed, a sound of a relief and exhilaration. His breath came in visible puffs. He felt the ice matted in his hair break and fall as he turned to look toward Loki, a giddiness behind his eyes.

Any fear or betrayal he felt upon Loki’s abandonment fled at seeing him again.

“You stole the Casket?” he grinned. “Loki, what possessed you—?”

Thor stopped mid-breath.

He stared, mouthed lightly parted as Loki moved his hands in a gesture once more, and the Casket vanished.

Loki had changed.

Deep blue skin. Red eyes. He stood poised on the bow of the small boat – frozen on the formation of a wave – as though a noble figurehead carved from dark heartwood. A regal commander, proud before a battle won.

He did not flinch when Thor looked at him.

“You wish to know what happened in the time you spent on Earth,” he said. “Here it is, brother.”

Loki sneered the word as though it tasted vile on his tongue. He spread his hands wide that Thor could better see him, his skin with darker traces along firm musculature, red eyes brands in the gray landscape.

“Odin revealed the truth to me while you were gone. We are not brothers.”

Thor stared at him, open in his wonder.

“Not brothers?” he echoed, quiet.

“No.” Loki spoke it fiercely, embracing the truth in whole if he could no longer hide it. “I am the foundling son of your enemies. You see me now as I truly am.”

He stood tall, chin lightly tilted. The sum total of defiance.

“Now look upon me, and hate.”

“We are not brothers,” Thor said again.

Loki scowled, though he should think it not unexpected Thor needed to be reiterated upon.

“We are not,” he hissed. “We never were.”

Tension flooded from Thor’s shoulders.

“Thank the Norns.”

He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and grabbed Loki’s face in his hands.

He kissed him, fully. Deeply.

Loki managed to somewhat restrain his squawk. The rest of his otherwise very undignified noise fell muffled against Thor’s mouth.

Loki tasted of ice, of cold winter air, of glaciers carving a slow and steady path over the course of time. The sort of strength that shaped continents.

When they parted, Thor could do nothing to stop his smile.

Loki looked only confused. And mildly irritated.

It was not the reaction he had expected.

Thor held his face and stood close as though to shelter him. It was not often he was the one to leave Loki stunned and grasping for words. He took full advantage to speak as he brushed back Loki’s fine hair with his thumbs.

“If we are not brothers, then let us be more.”

“What,” Loki breathed.

“You are cross with me for following you here. You have been running from me since we arrived. Now I know it was because of this secret you harbor.” He touched Loki’s cheeks, felt the raised lines of Jotun markings following the contours of his face. Like painted strokes to highlight the best of him. “You need not suffer it alone.”

He touched their brows together, aware of Loki’s still tolerance. He did not return the gesture.

Thor did not care. He held him anyway.

“Run from me no longer, Loki.”

“It was not running,” Loki said, the bitter edge of a scowl lingering in his voice. “I could have handled the beast well enough on my own.”

“Why not say so?”

Loki pulled back with a caustic laugh, enough to look up at him.

“You would not have allowed it.” He pushed Thor’s hands from him. “You would have thought it a trick. No matter how I justified it to your limited sensibilities, you would have followed me, for fear of my leaving again.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

Thor frowned.

“Then my fear is justified.”

Loki laughed – sharp, bitter – and turned his back on him. He looked out to the frozen sea twisted in its icy sculptures, the remnants of Lyngbakr trapped where they had fallen.

Thor only began to notice the cold, and shivered.

“It changes nothing,” Loki said, gesturing to the newly formed landscape. His glacial creation. “This is what I am.”

“I would still have you back,” said Thor.

“Odin will not.”

“You’re so certain?”

“Odin has never had me. He has known this…” Loki held up one cerulean hand, closed it into a fist. “…since the beginning.”

Thor stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

“Return with me. We will confront him together.”

Loki laughed again. This time it rang with a desperate edge, a weariness that made it grow thin.

“Do not tempt me, Thor.”

“It is not temptation.” Thor reached for his arm, grasped it even when Loki tried to flinch away. “I will not let you throw your life away as you did on the Bifrost.”

Loki glared at his hand, then to him, a moment before comprehension set.

When it did, he laughed.

Thor blinked.

“You truly think that was my intention?”

“Wasn’t it?” Thor ventured.

Loki shook his head, almost pitying.

“You believe me to be such a coward?”

Thor felt the embarrassed heat flush up his cheeks. When Loki put it like that…

“No,” he frowned. “Then what was your intent?”

Loki’s kept his face averted, spitting the words as venom.

“There are paths between the realms beyond that of the Bifrost, Thor. I know them all.”

Thor’s frown deepened.

“You could have taken us home at any time?”

Loki took no small amount of enjoyment in letting this truth be revealed. He turned to face him.

“Yes.”

“Why did you not?”

“Why, indeed.” He sneered, curling his lip. “To return to a realm where I’m not welcome after what I’ve done? Where I don’t belong? When I had you, here, to myself.” His hand lifted, touched Thor’s hair and followed the curve of his cheek to his neck. There he held him. “When you were at least pretending to want me.”

“Pretending,” echoed Thor.

“I thought…one night. One perfect night. Then I could leave you sleeping and you would be safe. You would never have to know my secret.” There, he laughed, its caustic edge turned inward, bitter at his own show of sentiment. “Surely you cannot fault me for wanting to imagine, even for a short while, that it could be possi—”

Thor silenced him with a kiss. His hands all but engulfed Loki’s cheek and the soft give of his neck, feeling how his pulse quickened and fluttered. Thor could feel his moment of tension, then how he eased, all but melting against him with the softest of sighs.

“It is no longer pretense,” said Thor, with no move to release him. “If it ever was.”

Loki’s breath staggered, astonishment and disbelief. His eyes held the remnants of lingering doubt.

“Come home, Loki.” This time Thor did nothing to hide his plead. He considered next dropping to his knees, if that would convince him. “I will confront father, if you will not.”

To which Loki looked dubious.

“And if he decides to throw me in a cell for what I’ve done?”

“I will not let him.”

“He will fight you.”

“I will fight for you.”

Thor pulled him into an embrace. Loki resisted still, hands against his chest, but it was a resistance that grew more and more weary beneath the tireless persistence of Thor’s conviction.

“He will exile us both.”

“Then we shall be exiled. But we shall know, and we will be together.”

What Thor caught in Loki’s scarlet glare, he could not quite name. It was almost hate, but for the beginnings of tears that froze, crystalline on Loki’s eyelashes.

He thumped a fist half-heartedly against Thor’s chest.

“Damn you,” he whispered. “Damn you for making me want to believe.”

Thor held him. This time, he would not let go.

It felt the only way to keep him from falling.

“Come home with me, Loki.”

A gray ship appeared through the mist, heading steadily towards them.

There would not be much time before Lord Aegir swept them up in yet another celebration for the beast’s demise.

“If I can not be your brother,” Thor whispered, and not for the last time, “then let me be more.”

Brother. Lover. Protector. Shelter. Thor would be all for him, felt ready to pledge his life, if Loki would only allow it.

At last, Loki’s arms lifted to embrace him in return. He buried his face against Thor’s shoulder, heaving a sigh that ended in a shiver at his shoulders.

Thor wondered if it had anything to do with the returning of his skin to Aesir pale as all traces of frost giant melted away, faded as ice before the intolerable light of a sun.

“You are an idiot,” Loki whispered. 

This time, neither of them let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter was written under the pretense that Loki could have still had the Casket with him when he fell off the Bifrost, because after using it on Heimdall in the Thor movie he is only shown putting it away, and it's never mentioned again. (That is...until a closer viewing revealed that the Casket is what he used, in fact, to freeze the Bifrost in place so it would stay open while he and Thor had their fight...a detail the author was woefully lacking in picking up on until this fic was already mostly done.)
> 
> So I'm claiming AU as defense and going to leave it as is.


	10. Chapter 10

“ _The ice cow also brought about life. As she licked and licked, her tongue grew warm, for she had to lick hard to make enough food for Ymir and his brood.”_

_“It must have been very salty milk.” Thor wrinkled his nose again._

_“Then, under her warm tongue, a head of hair sprouted on the briny brim. As she went on licking, a face appeared.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Shoulders and chest came forth, then legs, and at last, out stepped a whole new creature.”_

_“The cow licked someone out of the salt?”_

_Loki shrugged._

_“It would seem so.”_

_“Where did he come from?”_

_“Who knows. Perhaps he was there the whole time.”_

_“Doing what?”_

_“Why do you automatically assume it was a ‘he?’”_

_Thor thought for a moment, then shrugged._

_“I don’t know. Was it?”_

_Loki giggled._

_“Yes, he was. It says here he was straight and quite handsome, not ugly like the Jotuns and trolls. He had a son who was even more handsome, and the son took for his wife a beautiful Jotun maiden, for it sometimes happened that an ugly frost giant would have a lovely daughter.”_

_Thor threw down the grass stalk he chewed._

_“Now I know you’re making that up!”_

_“I am not!” Loki turned the book to show him, pointing. “It says it right here!”_

_“What are you boys up to?” Their mother’s voice called near the entrance of the garden._

_Loki quickly shut the book._

_“Nothing, mother,” they answered in near-perfect unison._

_Frigga appeared framed beneath the stone archway. She paused for a moment and watched them in quiet. As though to memorize the sight of them beneath the shade of an apple tree, giggling as they pushed and flicked stray leaves and flower petals from each other’s hair._

_She smiled._

_“Come inside,” she finally gestured. “It will be dark soon.”_

_“Yes, mother.”_

_They scrambled to their feet to race each other indoors._

_Loki let Thor win, as he usually did, more content to go slowly and tote the book under one arm_.

***

Lord Aegir’s ship could not traverse the ice that coated the sea. The task was left to Thor and Loki themselves to make their way to meet him.

He had no crew. The ship moved under his own power.

Aegir stood close to the railing, eyes wide as he took in the sight of Lyngbakr’s dying throes, preserved in ice for awhile yet that he may see.

“If the monster lives still,” Thor said as he stepped aboard, “then it is a greater beast than any of us.”

“If it lives still,” Aegir huffed, shifting his great bulk, “we shall not know it.”

He passed his hand in a gesture, and the fog surrounding the rocks of Lyngbakr’s once-lair closed in even more thickly. Blotting out the sight.

“I think the sun shall not shine on this place for a very, very long time.”

Thor nodded, and handed over a tooth the size of his hand that had been pried from his armor.

Aegir was delighted with the trophy. It would look wonderful in his treasure room.

“You have done far more than I have the right to ask,” he said, bowing his head. “Anything. It is yours.”

Thor glanced aside to Loki, who seemed content to remain silent. A brief glint shone in his eyes before he turned his small smile away and out to sea, lest Aegir see it.

Thor thought better against taking too much advantage of his hospitality.

“A return to your keep will be enough,” he nodded. “Perhaps a bath?”

“Done.”

At Aegir’s direction the ship turned to take them back, though its movement was slow, driven by gentle wind and the push of waves.

Thor and Loki exchanged glances again.

“If it is permissible,” said Thor, “we shall take our own way back.”

“Your own way?”

Barely had Aegir uttered the words before Thor grabbed Loki about his waist and pulled him close. His grin was boyish, excited, and he reached for Mjolnir to lift them both to the sky.

Loki caught his face, halting him. He kissed him, and wrapped them both in a wave of warm magic that took them back to the keep even more quickly, and more discreetly.

In truth there was little need for secrecy. The keep’s attention was not on them, but still upon repairing the damage done it its walls.

No one noticed their arrival.

They would have it no other way.

They fell together on the bed – whose chambers they had reappeared in, Thor did not take the time to notice…it mattered little – and were immediately entangled, arms reaching and pulling and desperate to find purchase to rid themselves of their clothes.

They made love with the fiercest tenderness.

Made love, because Thor could not think to call it anything else.

It felt like creation. Like the firm establishing of something between them with every touch, every kiss to seal it. Promises whispered in the other’s name.

As fog and fire mingled on the edge of Ginungagap, so sparked they a new world into existence. One comprised wholly of the two of them.

It was a wonder.

Loki on his back, his hair spread a damp mess across the pillows. Thor buried his every sense in Loki’s being, their faces hovering close that they constantly touched. Breath mixed in hot gasps and pants between them, when it was not stilled with a sudden, devouring press of mouths. Loki cradled Thor’s face in his hands as though he were precious, as though he were fragile, and Thor knew the rest of his days he would never know such fulfillment as he did in the way Loki touched him.

It was mindless. All was sensation, and it was right. Loki’s tangle of long legs and fingers held onto him, wanton cries even then half held in check behind a lingering desire to maintain his dignity.

Thor wouldn’t have it.

He made Loki cry to the stars. Made his body quiver and gasp and arch. There was no part of him Thor did not touch.

Thor spent himself deep inside. He had never felt closer to his brother than he did in that moment, seeing the pleasure reflected in the way his head tipped. Mouth parted for the softest of moans, an arch rippled down his back.

His body writhed to better feel him, Thor’s warmth, and when Thor collapsed, Loki held him still.

Soothing. Stroking.

Thor held onto him, even when drowsiness lured him towards sleep. Loki’s comfort and trust cradled him close to his heart.

He would not let him run away again.

“You smell like fish,” Loki murmured into his hair.

Thor did not move. He barely opened his eyes where he lay half on top of him.

“Shall I bathe?”

Loki gripped him briefly tighter, breathing in deep. The smell of Thor’s sweat and stink so unique of him.

“No,” he decided. “Stay right where you are.”

They did make it to the baths eventually.

Later, much later, once dark had fallen over the keep.

Loki settled into Thor’s lap in the steaming water. Arms linked around his neck and their kiss was a lazy one, indulgent and unhurried. Steam from the bath water clung to their skin and their hair hung damp.

At times their brows would touch and they would giggle like boys.

Of course Lord Aegir wished to host yet another elaborate banquet to celebrate the second – and final – victory over Lyngbakr, but Loki politely declined for the both of them. He said in more eloquent words Thor could have ever summoned that Aegir had done enough for them already. They were both tired from the ordeal, and wished to rest. Besides, wasn’t his time and effort better spent on repairing the keep and rebuilding the ships Lyngbakr had destroyed?

Aegir heartily agreed.

Though he still had his servants bring them a meal to enjoy as they would in their own chambers.

It was Thor’s they had landed in, after all.

They lay across the blankets and pillows late into the night, bodies stretched and sated.

Torchlight glowed on their skin.

The bed lay a mess after the use they’d put it through, and they sampled their meal in no great hurry. The picture of contented indulgence.

Loki gave Thor a more detailed account of what had taken place on Asgard. Thor listened soberly, his brow darkening with remorse and also pity for what he’d had to suffer alone.

“What I suffered?” Loki mused, only bravado to meet Thor’s concern. Never did he even hint toward apology. “What of you? Banished to Earth and forced to suffer those mortals.”

“Do not speak too ill of them.” Thor lay with his head on his arm, watching Loki propped up on his stomach as he worked at a tray of shrimp. “They do have wonderful drinks.”

“Oh yes. Coffee, wasn’t it?”

“And Boiler Makers.”

Loki hummed, amused still. Thor traced the bare line of his exposed back with his eyes, scarcely resisting the urge to follow the same path with his hand, feeling along the dip of Loki’s spine until it disappeared beneath the blankets at his waist.

Thor hoped to never stop marveling at his beauty.

“We shall have to include that in the ballad.”

“Ballad?”

Loki nodded, licking lingering taste from his fingertips.

“The ballad that will be sung of our adventures here, once word of it reaches Asgard.”

Thor laughed, and resettled his head. He felt his cheeks warm again.

“Father will hear it from Aegir, if not us,” he said.

“Your friends will be clambering for a story. And yes, Odin will desire an explanation.”

“You should write it,” said Thor, rather than ask if Loki would continue to insist on referring to Odin by name.

Loki laughed.

“Oh yes. The Ballad of Mighty Thor and the Sea Creature Lyngbakr. An epic in forty seven verses.”

Thor looked expectant.

Loki tossed one hand.

“…and so did Thor the Thunderer smite the Creature with his mighty hammer, but the beast would not be slain. Thrice did they battle. Thrice did the Beast fall. Thrice did it rise again to consume all. Not until clever Loki did turn his skin was Lyngbakr slain, frozen in sea turned to icy plain.”

Thor frowned.

“Thrice?”

Loki shrugged.

“Exaggeration is expected.”

“Indeed. The Warriors Three have made it their specialty.” Thor frowned once more. He shifted to set his chin on folded arms, comforted from dark thoughts at least by Loki’s nearness.

Loki watched him.

“Deciding how to best convince them of my redemption?” he prompted, when Thor said nothing.

Thor tried to smile.

“I would have us all be friends again.”

Loki shook his head, his turn to pity.

“They were ever your friends to begin.” He shrugged a bare shoulder. “I don’t care what they think of me.”

“We must at least reach an accord, if we are to live together.”

“Why?” Loki grin was sly. “Things could be so much more interesting than that.”

Thor did not share in his humor.

Loki laughed at him.

“Do not forget, Thor: I am not sorry. I will not return to Asgard bowing and scraping and begging forgiveness. Nor do I suspect they will be eager to trust me, after the Destroyer.”

Thor lifted his head just enough to catch his eyes.

“Will you ever try such a thing again?” he asked.

Loki could only expect such directness from him. Just as Thor could only expect the way he grinned and hummed in return. Evasive.

“Perhaps.”

For a moment, Thor was still. Then he rose to catch Loki first for a kiss, then to roll him over onto his back.

Loki went with only a slight mourning for the loss of his meal.

Thor lay atop him, close enough he could see Loki’s eyes, that Loki would know his meaning.

“Then I shall be there to stop you.”

“Oh?” Loki shifted beneath him, suggestive in where he pressed. Thor was not unaware.

“You set quite the challenge for yourself, brother.”

Rather than be provoked, or distracted, Thor only beamed.

“So long as you continue to call me that,” he said, nodding. “I will rise to any challenge.”

For a moment, Loki only looked at him, unaware of the slip in how he addressed him until it was said. A natural urge.

He recovered with a resigned pout, glancing away towards the window.

“I’m more willing to believe that beast knocked what little sense you had left out of your head.”

Thor smiled, and brushed back his hair.

“Doubt my sense,” he conceded. “But never doubt that I love you.”

Loki looked to him as though startled. The significance of his words were not lost.

Thor relished the sight on his brother’s face.

Then Loki turned away again.

Thor reached for him. Touched his cheek.

“Is it so hard to believe?” he whispered.

“It is hard to believe,” answered Loki, “when one is accustomed to denial.”

“I would have you never believe me.” Thor caught and kissed his hand. He linked their fingers together. “If it means every morning you wake to look upon me in new wonder that I am still at your side.”

Loki looked up to him, and could do nothing but laugh, small and breathy.

“Did you learn eloquence in your time on Earth as well?”

“Is it working?”

Loki laughed more genuinely, and pulled his hand away, lightly swatting his palm over Thor’s head.

Thor did nothing to avoid it and only smiled, kissing him once more.

“Why can we not stay here?” Loki sighed, and lay his head to rest. His hair pillowed around him in a particularly pleasing way. “Like this? No Asgard. No Jotunheim. Only us.”

“Alright,” said Thor, and relished once more the look of genuine surprise on Loki’s face.

“What?” he breathed, as though he’d misheard.

Thor smiled.

“Let us stay here. Forever. Or run away to some distant realm where we are not known.” He kissed him. “My home is here.”

Loki did not look comforted. If anything, his grimace twisted into one of greater and greater despair the more thought he devoted to it.

At last, he exhaled, defeat felling him limp upon the bed.

“No,” he said, and with no small reluctance. “We can’t.”

Thor watched him.

Loki looked back.

“You would be miserable anywhere else.” Loki touched his cheeks, pain but understanding making his fingers soft. “Even I could not make you happy the way home can.”

“I will make home a place where you will be happy again,” Thor promised.

“It will not be easy.”

“No. It will not.”

“There will be father to placate. And Heimdall. And your friends. And…” Perhaps the worst of all, if Loki’s flinch indicated true. “Mother.”

Thor nodded, aware. Aware of the trials that lay still before them. They were far from over.

But Loki had spoken of his family as they were, and that was reason enough for him to hope.

Thor kissed him, once more.

Always once more.

“Will you take us home, brother?”

For a moment, Loki was quiet. He searched Thor’s eyes as though to find something in their depths, to see the endless blue possibility of promise, and conviction. Thor’s strength in this was as in all things: never wavering.

Thor would believe enough for the both of them, if he must.

At last, Loki sighed.

“I will,” he whispered, and pulled Thor down to him.

Thor went, drawn, and did not let him go.

“I will come home.”

Thor knew not what would await them in Asgard. But whatever lay in store, they would face it.

Together.


	11. Epilogue

Repairs on the Bifrost progressed ahead of schedule.

Thor could see the gleaming rainbow bridge stretching out over the water from where he stood. The arched walkways lining Odin’s throne room framed the view in pristine gold as it caught and held the evening light.

There was no place one could stand in Asgard and not see it, he thought.

A great number of individuals came and went across the bridge’s lustrous sheen; still bright, even if its edges lay shattered.

Many of them were dwarves or gnomes, or other peoples whose knowledge could contribute to the rebuilding of one of Asgard’s greatest treasures. The symbol of its might.

Odin made certain all were well compensated for their work.

Heimdall made certain there were no racial squabbles or tampering with the bridge’s inner workings.

Thor stood, as he had done for much of his time since returning to Asgard, and felt a deep contentment in simply looking out over his home. Appreciative and grateful in a way he had not been since before Earth. Before Alfheim.

The celebration feast Lord Aegir had brought to Asgard shortly on the heels of his and Loki’s return lasted well over a fortnight. Thor was certain Volstagg still lay in an alcove somewhere, sleeping off the ale.

“…should not take more than the next moon. Once the dwarves finish bracing the underlying supports, construction may begin on the outer shell.”

Loki’s voice drew his attention back inside, where they stood before their father.

Odin insisted upon reports of the Bifrost’s progress every day until it was done.

That he had placed Loki in charge of the project Thor thought a great show of faith.

So far, Loki had not disappointed.

Loki was clever, even in this, and his ambition far-reaching. Thor watched him with unhidden admiration as he spoke. Confident.

“I have drawn an arrangement of runes and spells,” he said, opening a scroll that had been tucked under one arm. “Have these woven into the making and it will protect against…”

Loki held out his hand toward a small table set against the wall. The feather quill lying upon it – what Thor could guess Loki reached for – did not move. It stayed exactly as it was, even when Loki paused long enough to glare at it.

They had been home for some time, but Loki still managed to forget his magic had been bound. Stripped from him in all but the slightest of ways. It would remain so until the Bifrost was fully restored.

Thor did not think it an overly harsh punishment.

He went to the table, and picked up the quill to carry it back to Loki instead.

Loki was annoyed, but grateful.

“It will protect against use that does not have your sanction,” he finished, returning to Odin. He handed the scroll to a servant after making a few additional marks, who carried it up the raised dais to where Odin sat.

Odin nodded his head. He turned his gaze down upon the scroll once it came to his hands. Thor recognized the markings to be largely starmaps, designs pertaining to the Bifrost, and long lines of intricate runes crafted with painstaking care. Beyond that, he could make no sense of them.

He watched his father and brother.

Odin and Loki had not spoken overly much since they returned home. Only once had Loki been summoned to Odin’s chambers, and he had gone. Alone. Thor had not been allowed entrance. He had waited and paced the corridor impatiently outside until Loki emerged.

Even then, he would not speak of what had transpired.

But there did seem a degree less of tension about him.

Since then Odin and Loki’s exchanges had been kept to matters pertaining to the Bifrost.

At least they were speaking.

As for what had transpired in Alfheim, the story of Lyngbakr had spread quickly once Loki recounted it at Lord Aegir’s feast. As promised, he had composed it into an epic ballad, one Thor would still hear pieces of when he walked the halls of the citadel, with all proper embellishments.

Though certain things Loki had omitted from the retelling. Things that would have explained Thor’s newly developed habit of reaching for Loki’s hand to hold when he was near. Or why the two of them would disappear suddenly, and often, for no particular reason.

Thor did his best not to let the flush reach his cheeks while he stood in their father’s presence. He did not believe for an instant Odin could not have known about what went on in his or Loki’s bedchambers at night, or the sort of things they did when they were alone in the orchard.

Or in the gardens.

Or the library.

Or the stable.

Or in the halls of the citadel when they could not wait.

Odin must have known. But he never spoke of the matter.

Perhaps there was no reason to.

“I will discuss it with the council,” Odin said, rolling the scroll closed. “There may be reasons to leave the wards as they are.”

Loki nodded, but said nothing. Thor saw the slight rotation of his jaw that meant he was thinking.

Odin beckoned a servant forward and handed the scroll over along with instructions to take it to the council chamber and to let the nobles know he would be there shortly. The servant bowed and left as another drew forward with a pitcher of drink for the three of them. At Odin’s indication, he began to pour.

“There is one other matter,” he said, when Loki looked ready to leave.

Thor and Loki raised their eyes to him.

Thor’s breath caught in his throat. He braced himself for what he was certain would be confrontation at last.

He had prepared for this.

Already he felt close to bursting with countless justifications for why he and Loki had entered so willingly into a pseudo-incestuous relationship, ready to counter any of the Allfather’s demands they end it before such a thing shamed the House of Odin.

Many of them revolved around one simple truth.

They loved each other.

But Odin said nothing of it. He did not meet their eyes.

Instead he stood from Hlidskjalf and drew from its side something wrapped in deep green cloth.

He moved down the steps of the dais, slowly, with a grace and majesty Thor did not think he could do without, until he met them.

“This was found recently among the wreckage,” he said, and unwrapped the cloth. “It is yours, should you wish to claim it.”

It was Loki’s helmet.

Silence ruled.

Thor looked to Loki, who looked to the helmet as Odin held it in offering. Recognition sparked in his eyes. Perhaps even a fondness. But he made no move to take it.

Loki lifted his eyes to Odin instead. He met the Allfather’s wizened gaze, but said nothing. He only bowed his head again and slipped down to one knee to receive the blessing.

Odin caught his arm before he could fully kneel. He urged him back to his feet.

“You kneel to no one,” he said. “If you accept this, you do so by your own regency.”

Their eyes met.

Thor could not name what he felt passing between them, but he felt suddenly like an intruder upon the profound.

He watched as Odin turned the helmet in his hands, lifted, and settled it over Loki’s dark hair. It came to rest with a fit never meant for anyone else.

Loki closed his eyes, and exhaled softly.

When he opened them again, Odin had already turned to leave. He said nothing more. Only swept from the chamber and took a great presence with him.

In the quiet of his wake, Thor approached his brother.

“Loki?” he ventured, very quietly.

Loki looked to him, and the soft nostalgia Thor saw there in his eyes pricked his heart.

Loki laughed a little.

“I did not imagine to ever see this again,” he said. He lifted one hand to touch the crown between his horns.

Thor smiled, hoping to encourage Loki’s own.

“Will you have it?” he asked.

Loki looked away from him towards the window.

Outside, the Bifrost shone.

“I suppose there are worse things,” he mumbled, “than being rendered an ice cow.”

Thor followed his look, and nodded.

Ice cows begat new beginnings.

He moved to stand closer to him, that he could find Loki’s hand between the fall of their cloaks and grasp it.

“Much worse,” he agreed, and squeezed their palms. “Father could have you turned into a horse and haul the Bifrost materials yourself.”

The servant still standing by with the pitcher chuckled.

Loki shot him a glare.

He moved his hand, and a tiny snake emerged from the pitcher’s open top.

The servant yelped once he saw, and dropped it.

“Loki,” Thor groaned.

Loki’s grin split into a laugh.

He had enough magic left in him to do that much, at least.

“Oh,” he said. “It is _good_ to be home.”


End file.
